Soldier of Light
by Trooper 3.6
Summary: Ven's fate is exile to another world and to live forever without any hope of seeing those he cares for again. He is trapped in a world without magic, but magic has a way of coming around. He becomes a soldier for his adoptive homeland and his latest mission just might help him get home.
1. Chapter 1

Ventus awoke in the dream. A beautiful dream. He stood before the Radiant Garden water fountains. Beautiful, artificial waterfalls several stories high. It was peaceful, not a sound but the roaring water.

The giggle of a beautiful voice traveled over the water. That voice! It was her! Ven spun around. Aqua was nowhere to be seen. He turned again and there she was. She stood beside him, gazing in wonder at the fountain.

Aqua turned to smile at Ven. Like she did that night, long ago, as he lay on his back looking at a meteor shower. Her eyes and hair shined like sapphires in the sunlight. She was so beautiful! All Ven could do was smile back.

Aqua smiled wider and giggled. There also seemed to be mischief in her smile. Not malice, but mischief. She kicked off her boots and hunched over to remove her thigh-high-stockings. She removed her decorative sleeves strapped to her forearms, then spun as she unstrapped her skirt and let it slide to her feet.

Ven jerked back in surprise. He had been so dazed at seeing her again after so long he hadn't even noticed what she was doing. Aqua giggled again and stepped into the water. It looked cold, but she entered with ease and walked further out toward the falls.

The water and sunlight shimmering off it only magnified her beauty. Ventus began to notice, as if for the first time, how well Aqua's skin-tight-suit complimented her figure. He jerked back again as Aqua returned his gaze with a devious smile. Could she read his mind!?"

She struck the water, sending a heavy splash toward him. Ven had no time to dodge. Her strength always surprised him. She looked at him with a challenging grin and ran for the other side of the fountain. Ven smirked. It was on!

He pulled off his own shoes and socks, tore off his shirt, and splashed in after her. The water was pleasantly warm. He sent a mighty wave toward her. She splashed back. This went on for several minutes between them. They laughed and giggled like children in a park. She was a little older than him, but neither one of them could be called children anymore.

Aqua froze in mid-swing. Ven braced himself for the splash, but it never came. He almost called out to her when he noticed she was staring down a tunnel in the middle of the falls. It hadn't been there before. Where did it come from? Where did it go?

After a moment of silence, Aqua looked at Ven with another menacing smile. In the blink of an eye she darted into the darkness of the tunnel. Ven gasped and ran in after her. What was she thinking? They had no idea where it led?

Darkness enveloped Ven. The only sound was the splashing of his feet. Soon the light of the tunnel entrance disappeared behind him. Ven began to pant for breath. He thought he heard Aqua giggling in the dark. He was starting to worry his mind was playing tricks on him. A light appeared ahead of him. He called out to her.

"I'm right here, Ven," Aqua's voice answered, as if right beside him. He reached the light, it was a lightbulb. It revealed pipes along the wall and something floating on the water. It was Aqua's bodice!

Ven's eyes widened. His heart skipped several beats. Was she in danger? He called out to her at the top of his lungs.

"I'm here!" she replied. "Come on! It's beautiful!"

"What is?" he shouted back. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here!" she answered.

Ven was confused. But there was nothing he could do but keep running after her. Soon he came to another lightbulb. Something else was in the water beneath it. His heart drummed rapidly as he realized it was Aqua's shorts!

Ventus was frozen in place, but he breathed rapidly. He felt cold but was sweating profusely. Aqua… She was… Why? What was going on!? Aqua's voice giggled in the darkness, snapping him out of it.

"Why are you so distant, Ven?" she asked. He searched for an answer, but couldn't find one. "Don't you like this?" her voice asked, sounding almost sad. Ven couldn't say. This was new to him. "Don't you want me?" she asked pleadingly. "I want you, Ven."

A warmth spread through Ventus. It spread like fire. A gentle but forceful fire. The answer to her last question was yes. He did want her! He started running again, splashing loudly as he went. The fire built up inside him. The water began to feel cold. The darkness grew blacker than ever. He couldn't stop. He had to find her! He wanted her! He needed her!

The tunnel dropped down into a larger chamber. It was candle lit and had cushions and pillows spread on the floor, all red. A large pool steamed in the middle of the chamber. Ven figured this was a lounge for someone wealthy. Maybe the city mayor. But where was Aqua?

She emerged in the middle of the pool with a splash. Ven almost fell over in surprise. There was Aqua, dripping wet without a stich on her body! She moaned and smiled with pure ecstasy. The pool looked even more inviting to Ven.

Aqua smiled at him as he knelt at the edge of the pool. His eyes were locked on her. The sight of her mesmerized him. The pool was deep and the candle light gave a warm golden tinge to the water. It was a treasure chamber, and Aqua was the treasure.

"Come on in, Ven," she said. "It's wonderful!"

Ven stood tall. His shyness melting. He had been with Aqua for years. She had become as precious to him as Terra. And yet, somehow, it was different. In a way, she had become more precious to him. The thought of it almost felt like a betrayal. Terra was the only brother he'd ever known. But right then, all he could think about was her.

He removed his trousers and shorts and jumped into the pool. The water was hot, but pleasantly so. It soothed and warmed every inch of his body. All memory of the day Xenanort froze him and left him helpless to save Aqua from his darker half vanished. He felt more alive and more relaxed than ever.

His head emerged from the pool for a breath of air. His breath was cut off by a playful splash from Aqua. He happily splashed back. She dodged his strike and shot him a challenging grin before diving deep. Ven dove after her. The glow of the candles shone through the water and glittered off her skin as he chased her to the bottom of the pool then from one side to the other. Her she was beautiful beyond his imagination! His eyes explored her body in wonder. He saw her smile back and gaze over him the same way. He was too entranced to be embarrassed. He also forgot he'd been holding his breath.

Ven shot back up to the surface for some much needed air. He gasped for breathe. Another moment and he might have passed out! Aqua emerged in front of him. She took in a breath without gasping. She always was a good swimmer. Ven envied her.

Aqua came closer and gently placed her hand on Ven's cheek. His breathing calmed immediately. His heart, however, pounded harder than ever. He smiled awkwardly, Aqua returned it with a warm smile. She leaned a few inches forward and kissed Ven softly on the lips. Her eyes slid shut as their lips met. Ven's shot wide open!

This kiss went on a long time. He felt her lips intertwine with his. He felt her breath, her hand still on his cheek. It felt to him like their hearts were fusing. An eternal bond that nothing could ever break. He couldn't hide or deny his feelings anymore. He was in love with Aqua! His heart skipped a beat as he came to this realization. It skipped several more as he realized this meant she loved him back!

Ven's heart calmed and his eyes slid shut. He returned the kiss with passion. He softly laid his own hand on Aqua's cheek and wrapped his free arm around her. He held her close. Her warm soft body pressed against his.

Aqua broke away from the kiss but returned his embrace. She let go of his cheek only to take his hand into hers. Their hands embraced. She looked deep into his eyes. Her smile was gone, replaced by wonder and longing.

"I've missed you Ven!" Aqua sniffled. Tears began to stream down her eyes. "I want this! I want you so much!"

"What? What's wrong?" Ven asked, dumbfounded. "You have me! I'm right here!" he insisted.

"No!" she sobbed. "This is only a dream. But it's a dream we share, Ven!" she went on. "A dream she'll never let us finish and never let come true!"

"She? Who's she? What are you talking about?" Ven asked. A dark, wicked laugh echoed through the room. The pool rumbled with her voice. The voice sounded oddly familiar to Ven.

"The Queen!" Aqua gasped in terror. "She won't let us be together! I'm sorry Ven! Goodbye," darkness began to envelope her as she finished. It molded to her like tar and abruptly snatched her from Ven's grasp. It dragged her under water.

"NO!" Ven shouted. He dove after her. He saw the darkness dragging her deeper and deeper, the bottom of the pool had disappeared! It was like an ocean! He stroked as hard as he could but couldn't catch up. Aqua vanished in the darkness.

"AQUA!" Ven shouted, his voice gargled in the water.

"Ven!" Aqua's voice echoed. It seemed to be coming from all around him. Where was she? "Ven!" she called again. "VEN!"…

"VEN!" a sharp kick to the side pulled Ventus from the dark and into the tropical morning sun. "Wake the hell up!" Sergeant Walker snapped. His frown was barely visible in the shadow of his hat. "We're on the move in thirty seconds. Get up or you can have my old nick-name, Slacker!"

"Yes, Sarge. I'm up!" Ven grumbled as he rolled to his feet. The thick, damp, jungle air of Vietnam singed in lungs. The officers had lied that they get use to the heat. The monsoons had ended a few days ago. Ven had hoped the rain would cool things down. No such luck. No luck at all.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Corporal Key," said Capt. Monty, the squad's commander and ARVIN attache to the U.S. Army. "Nice of you to join us, perhaps you'd like Sgt. Walker to bring you breakfast in bed?" he asked with a grin.

"Bacon and eggs, please sir," Ven replied. "And orange juice on the rocks," he finished with a smirk. The rest of the squad erupted into laughter.

"Very funny, Key," said Monty. "Maybe your nick-name should be Corporal Joker. In fact you seem rested and ready for fun, you have point."

"Yes sir," Ven nodded. He put on his helmet, grabbed his M-16 and made his way to the head of the formation. Being on point never bothered Ven. In fact he usually volunteered for it! He figured it might as well be him. It's not like he had to worry about trip cords or snipers. He was pretty good at spotting both threats, but several times he'd "miraculously" survived blasts and sniper shots that would have killed anyone else. No head shots or anything that couldn't be written off as a grazing wound that looked worse than it was.

Bravo squad advanced deeper into the bush. Ven was grateful not to find any traps or trip cords. This bunch only had a few weeks left until being cycled out for R&R. Some of them were almost done with their tour, short timers they were called. Sgt. Walker was one of them. Sarge and Monty had been together since before Tet.

Ven had arrived just before the Tet Offensive, and was in Danang for the worst of it, which was pretty bad. Not nearly the overwhelming defeat for America and the South the media made it out to be though. It never did make sense to Ven, the media turning on their own soldiers and printing stories to make them look like villains. Ven had seen REAL villains before.

Soon they reached the clearing, and there stood the village. The brick church stood out like a sore thumb in the village. All stilted huts, like most nam villages, but this one just happened to have a stone, gothic looking, church at the highest point of the village.

Not too many catholic churches this far out in the bush, which put them at extra risk. Ven was surprised the Cong hadn't torched the place during Tet. He figured they were letting the little fish go to snag the big ones. Of course it didn't work out like the papers seemed to think.

Ven led bravo squad up the path and into the village. Some villagers waved smiling from the rice paddies. Others simply stared in silence. Even though most of the villagers were catholic and had a vested interest in keeping the commies out, they rarely treated the GIs like anything other than unwanted strangers. The news stories about the few massacres by U.S. troops didn't help much. Ven had shrugged at the stories, he'd seen much bigger slaughters by the Cong and NVA. Sometimes Vens growing pessimism surprised even him.

Father Duggal was sitting at the foot of the church, posing for a picture. Judy, the pretty photojournalist was lining him and the children up for the shot. She snapped a few pictures gave a thumbs up. The little ones mimicked the motion and ran away laughing.

"Surprised you took the picture, Ms. Judy," the padre said with his thick French accent. "Don't you generally print for the other side?" The reporter scoffed.

"Well don't blame me for your religious stubbornness," she chuckled. "It's pretty clear the people of this fine land want you and yours out."

"Oh yes, my dear," Duggal laughed. "They flocked to my side and smiled so happily for the picture! And after a morning mass that left them all with smiling faces! They must really want me gone!"

"Maybe around here, but you know what they say about the majority getting their way."

"I thought you were American, my dear? In your country the majority rules, but the minorities have rights. More so over the past decade," Duggal grinned at Judy's sulking sigh of defeat. Ven smiled. Like most Americans he'd been very proud of the civil rights act, and of the great speeches by Martin Luther King Jr. And devastated at his assassination.

The blonde camera woman spun around in surprise when she noticed Ven standing just a few feet away. No one in the squad had wanted to interrupt the debate. "Key!" she gasped. "You scared me!"

Ven giggled. "Right, hope you don't put me down in your next report as some kind of monster,"

She smiled back. "Not without photographic evidence. Lucky for you you've got those baby blues," she winked at him. Ven tried not to blush as the squad laughed behind him.

Judy was rarely outwardly hostile with the troops, but Ven she managed to befriend, despite their clear difference of opinion. Maybe because he looked so young. He actually had aged slightly over his two centuries in this world. Barely a few years. At least people had stopped doubting his age.

"Alright, people cut the chatter!" Walker sounded off. He asked the padre how the reporter's stay had been. It had been cordial. She and he hadn't gotten into too many arguments and the people had been as welcoming to her as they were to him. Judy had gotten so many photos of the village and its people she seemed confident she could make a huge culture piece. Ven didn't comment on how he thought she'd spin it. Which was that Vietnamese culture is just fine the way it's been for centuries and how evil Americans and westerners were to bring their religion and industry there.

"Well, I still say I don't NEED an escort back to the city. But I know you'll insist," Judy grumbled at Walker.

"Plenty of reporters of your exact same opinions said that same thing ma'am," Walker replied. "They all ended up with their heads mounted on stakes. Including the women, though of course the Cong took certain…liberties with them first." Judy cringed, but feigned a scoff. She really wanted to deny Sarge's word, but knew better.

The padre got on with his fond farewell. Even gave a prayer and a blessing over the squad for safe travels on our journey. Sarge thanked him and gave the order to move out. This time Ven came up the rear of the line.

"Does anyone else but me feeling like yall are just trying to tell these people you're the good guys while waving the guns around?" Judy broke the silence.

"That's what good guys do, ma'am," Sarge answered. "Ever heard of Wyatt Earp? Doc Holiday? Bass Reaves?" the squad cheered at the famous names.

Monty grunted and finally spoke up. "They look like good guys to me," he said.

"No offense, Monty, but you're in the minority," she said.

Monty took offense. "I certainly am now, since your commie friends started slaughtering my family."

"Enough!" Sarge growled. "This is the army, not a political forum! Keep your opinions to yourselves!"

Gunfire rang out behind them. They all turned in shock. Ven knew those shots anywhere, he'd heard them when the first rang out in the mountains of North Korea, AKs! Viet Cong was attacking the village. There'd been no sign of Charlie all through the patrol. They must have been waiting for them to leave the village.

"Oh God!" Judy gasped.

"Orders, Captain?" Walker turned to Monty. The ARVIN officer frowned.

"We have our orders, escort the reporter back to the firebase and avoid contact with the enemy!" he growled.

"But sir."

"We don't even have the full platoon out here!" Monty snapped. "We have no idea how many are attacking!"

Ven didn't care to listen to the rest of the conversation. He ran for the village as the rest of the squad got to arguing. He heard Sarge and Monty shout everyone down, then they called his name. Now they'd have no choice but to go back for him. This little stunt would probably get him chewed out something fierce, but it would be worth it. Ven couldn't bear to hear about another massacre. Not this village, they were good people. And that priest… the strength and faith in his eyes… faith he hadn't seen since master Eraqus. The man who was like a father to him.

More shots rattled as he reached the clearing and sprinted up the path. He passed bullet riddled bodies in the paddy. More along the path. The huts were burning, most pocked with bullet holes.

Ven froze as he reached the top. VC troops held Father Duggal and the children at gunpoint. Most of the children were already dead. The Cong commander stood over a child with the padre on his knees. He handed the child a pistol and demanded he kill Duggal. The child wept and shook his head. Duggal begged and pleaded for the boy to do as they say and shoot him, but he wouldn't.

The Cong officer took back his pistol and shot the boy in the head. Then he turned and shot the last of the children. Father Duggal fell on his belly sobbing. The officers hot him in the head.

Ven's world turned red. He'd seen such cruelty many times in many different wars. He never got use to it. He'd grown numb to hearing about such things but could never stomach watching it. He froze for several seconds, trembling with rage.

A shocked cry let him know the commies finally noticed him, the novelty of mocking the corpses of helpless children and an old man had worn off. Ven barely felt the first bullet, or the next several to follow. The force of the impacts knocked him back, but he refused to fall over. Soon his uniform was in shreds, but there he stood.

The VC began to stare and gasp in horror at the foreign barbarian. Ven grinned at the shock in their eyes. They just didn't understand. How could they? So caught up in their own little world and their self-importance they didn't care how many innocent people they hurt, all in the name of making themselves puppet regimes of the Soviets and Reds.

Some of them started to reload, other trembled with their smoking AKs in their hands. Ven dropped his rifle and drew his machete. He twirled in his has palm to grip it back-handed. They were no longer facing an American GI, but a centuries old swordsman. A keyblade bearer.

He charged them with a roar of fury. He slashed and stabbed without hesitation. He remembered his training and sprang upon them with all the speed and grace his master had taught him. He ripped the blade from another throat and held the corpse as a shield against a spray of bullets. He threw the riddled body at the soldier charged in to finish him.

He saved the officer for last. The bastard had just finished reloading and emptied his clip into Ven at point blank range. He kept pulling the trigger long after it was emptied and stared wide-eyed as Ven's wounds healed before his eyes. "What are you?"

Ven approached and thrust the blade deep into his belly. "I'm what darkness fears!" Ven growled in the native tongue before the murderer's eyes went dead.

"Key!" Sarge's voice came from behind him. Walker and the rest of the squad all stared in shock.

"Oh God!" Judy gasped as she started taking pictures. They all looked at him in horror. His uniform was shredded and covered with blood. A dozen dead VC littered the ground. And he was armed only with a machete. He must have looked like something out of a nightmare to them.

…

Ven stood from his bunk as the cell door opened. It was time. The two MPs stood ready to take him on his "last walk." He let the crumpled letter fall the floor. It had read…

"Dear Ven.

I tried to tell my superiors the truth. That it was the VC who killed those children and Father Duggal. But they wouldn't listen. They either ignored me or acted like I was crazy. I took it all the way up to the chief editor, he cut me off in mid-sentence and told me if I kept making noise about this or leaked it to another news source, not only would they fire me, but make certain I'd never work in journalism again. I know it's selfish, but I can't go back to being miss nothing from nowhere again. If it helps, try to consider your death might mean the end of this war, an end to suffering like what we saw back at the village. I'm sorry…

She didn't sign it. Didn't need to. Sgt. Walker managed to get through security and give me the squad's regards. They were all pissed. Some of them even mumbled about arranging a jailbreak. Sarge had wished he could make that happen. But he couldn't do it without help, and part of his job was to keep the men out of trouble. He said his goodbye and was gone.

Ven was silent as he got up and let the night-stick wielding soldiers usher him down the cell block and out into the field. There were more reporters there, and officers of the U.S. and South Vietnamese armies. They read off the charges against him and the verdict of the shame of a court martial against him.

Judy's media bosses had painted Ven as the insane GI who snapped and slaughtered an entire village, including a priest. The army, desperate for a scape-goat, was eager to quench the public's call for blood. They figured if they made an example of this "crazed GI," the media would be appeased and lay off the smear campaign. Ven hoped they were right.

He wasn't looking forward to explaining what was to come to the guards, or the presiding officers. But Ven knew he wouldn't be able to keep this a secret forever. He kept his mouth shut as they announced the sentence and asked God to have mercy on his soul. A priest even came to say a prayer for him, Ven nodded politely but said nothing. The firing squad came up in formation, like a parade. Ven rolled his eyes as they leveled their rifles at him. He couldn't help but smirk as the leader sounded off.

"Ready. Aim. Fire!"


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Hello everyone, this has been a long time coming. I know I have other unfinished fanfics, but I needed to get this off my chest. And I've been busy with work and trying to write my own original fiction that I can make money off of, I guess I might have forgotten how much I enjoy this. Well here's another chapter, please take note, this is more than just a Kingdom Hearts and Once Upon a Time cross over, Intend to mish mesh some of my favorite characters from a few other video games in here. Enjoy and please review.

P.S. Sean Mallory-1, I think you'll find there was plenty of Kingdom Hearts in the last chapter, might I recommend you play Birth By Sleep, or look it up online.

Ventus awoke with a gasp as frigid water splashed between his legs. He was laying on a beach. Not a warm, tropical one like he'd briefly visited in the void between worlds. The wind was as cold as the water, the bitter chill of winter was setting in. He clutched his arms and shivered to the bone.

Where was Aqua? All went blank after his fight with Vanitas. He remembered her voice and her hand. His rage at not being able to protect her came to mind. He nearly called out her name.

"You alright there laddie?" a friendly voice called from behind. Ven splashed around in surprise. A middle aged man stood on the dry sand looking at him. He wore a green jacket and black triangular hat. He was carrying some kind of weapon, a fire-arm it looked like. Master Eraqus never liked such things, he said they were uncivilized.

"A bit cold to go for a dip, don't you think?" he asked, his accent was thick, similar to Mr. Scrooge, back at Radiant Garden.

"Who are you?" Ven demanded as he stumbled to his feet. "Where am I?"

The man laughed. "I might ask you the same question. But I am Sgt. Michael Killian and you are on a beach in the territory of Massachusetts. Or New Ireland if the Red Coats get their way, and after sending us off as badly as they just did, they may very well. Nice of them to want to remake my homeland here in the new world, just a pity it'd go to a pack of prudes!" he spat.

Massachusetts? New World? Ven blinked in confusion, he'd never heard of such places. Something was also different about the way the land looked. In fact something seemed off about Killian, and even himself. He looked at his hands and felt himself over, nothing had changed, but somehow everything had changed, though he wasn't sure what.

"Well how about you, laddie?" Killian asked. "Got a name?"

"Ventus."

Killian looked at him thoughtfully. "That would be the latin for 'wind' wouldn't it?" he asked. Ven stared back blankly. "I don't suppose you're a fellow papist?"

"I'm not from around here," Ven said, not knowing how else to answer. "I'm from another world," he said hesitantly.

Killian smiled. "Aren't we all?" he stepped forward. "My men and I are camped just inside the tree line," he motioned to the pine forest behind him. "You seem a healthy young pup, and I detect a strong will in you, lad. After a thrashing like we just had up north at the Penobscot River, we could use a new pair of hands. Unless your father and mother would have reservations about you fighting for the cause of liberty?"

Ven blinked. "I don't have a mother," he hung his head. "And my father is dead." Killian apologized.

"Then it seems you have nowhere to go, Ventus. You'd best come along them, and if its freedom you want, our cause is your best chance," Killian finished and turned to stride toward the trees.

Ven frowned. Trusting a stranger didn't seem the smart thing to do. But the man was right, he had nowhere to go and no way to leave this world. He'd been trying to summon his keyblade ever since Killian showed up. It wouldn't come. Maybe it was just temporary, maybe not. One thing for sure, this man knew where he was going.

Ven caught up with Killian quickly. The aging man looked over his shoulder with a smirk. Ven followed him into the trees and soon they reached a camp fire with about a dozen other men in green uniforms huddled around it. "Welcome to United States Marines, laddie," Killian said.

…two centuries later

The cell door opened without warning. Ven blinked at the sudden light. Then the guards switched his cell light on. He winced tiredly up at the celling. Ven hated his bed, he'd slept in mud puddles in the field that were more comfortable. When his eyes adjusted he saw a man in a suit, flanked by two MPs.

"Private Ventus Key?" the suit asked.

"Yes, sir?"

"I understand you were found guilty of mass murder, sentenced to death by firing squad, and that the sentence was carried out accordingly?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Ven sat up on the cot and fingered the bullet holes in this shirt with a smirk. "Is this the best you pansies can do?" he asked.

The suit smiled. "Come with me, Ventus. Tell me your tale."

Ven chuckled. "You wouldn't believe it even if I did tell you."

"Try me…"

It turned out the suit was named Agent Rigs, a rising star in Langley. Like most CIA agents he didn't shy away from less-than-honorable methods. But Ven could tell at the coffee table in the break room, that Rigs wanted the best for America. In a way, he almost reminded him of Terra. The agent went on to explain it was his idea to have him convicted and shot. "No hard feelings of course?"

"None at all," Ven answered blankly.

The company man went on to praise Ven for his amazing ability, even compared him to a few comic book characters. Ven smiled, he'd never grown out of such things. Eventually Rigs got to the point, that there were other threats to America and the world than Communism. The federal government had been trying to get a special military unit together to counter paranormal threats without luck. With Ven's cooperation, such a unit may one day be possible. And also an invincible soldier could be a valuable asset to SOG and other assorted special ops units.

Ven, being a long-time patriot, eagerly obliged him. Rigs hadn't said anything but, knowing the CIA like he did, he figured it was either do as they say or spend the rest of eternity in prison. Or maybe they'd put him in a drug induced coma and use him as a lab rat until they realized science had nothing to do with his healing ability and slow aging. He'd barely aged a few years in as many centuries!

"Excellent, amigo!" Rigs exclaimed in his southern drawl. "Now, lets us have a word about your past," he said. "What can you tell me about a certain Marine named Ventus Eraqus?"

Ven smiled. He hadn't heard that name since he gave it up to assume another. He casually told the story of the mysterious boy found washed up on the shore of present-day Maine. How he'd been rescued by marines and eagerly joined them to set the country free.

Ven also had many other historic marines and soldiers to mention. Ones who'd fought in the bloodiest battles of American history. Ones that always came out on top. None with official recorded deaths. And, from firsthand accounts and photographs, all bore a striking resemblance to the prisoner sitting next to Rigs.

…Storybrooke: post final battle

Rumpelstiltskin gently embraced his wife and baby boy. It was truly a miracle they'd gotten him back. He thought for sure Gideon was lost forever, but then he appeared before them in the mine. His wife's favorite tune rang softly from the nearby music box. She smiled warmly at him. How many times had he driven that smile from her face, lost her warmth? He would never lose it again.

The entrance bells jingled just as he moved in for a kiss. Man and wife both sighed in unison. "I forgot the lock up and turn on the closed sign," he groaned.

"Nobody's perfect," Belle smiled. Mr. Gold returned her smile glumly. It was probably the dwarves trying to pawn some piece of junk from the old country again. But business was business. And Gold knew it was never too early to set up a college fund.

He strode out of the storage area and into the shop. He paused in confusion to see a figure dressed entirely in black and where a black motorcycle helmet, the face shield was down. For a moment, Gold thought he was being robbed. He repressed his urge hurt the man very badly.

Before a word was spoken, the man in black placed two old dolls on the counter. Dolls Gold recognized. The man drew a bundle of dollars from his pocket and slipped two one-hundred-dollar bills onto the counter.

Gold gazed at the man in wonder. Was this some kind of joke? He wondered if it was Pinocchio, that long-nosed trouble maker was known for riding a motorcycle. Probably didn't have the guts to face him after the last time. Gold wondered if his nose was still a bit long, that would explain the helmet.

The man in black slipped two more Benjamins on the counter. Gold smirked. "I'm afraid these are antiques, very valuable."

The man put down two more hundreds without so much as grunt. Gold's smirk curled and his eyes narrowed. Two more Benjamins went down. "Sold American!" Gold proclaimed, not wanting to completely break the man's bank. He knew Belle didn't like it when he haggled the customers too much.

The black figure nodded and placed the dolls in a plastic bag before exiting the shop without a word. Something put Gold off about the man. He wasn't entirely sure it was Pinocchio, or anyone from town anymore. He couldn't shake the feeling he'd just made a mistake.

He heard a loud engine rev outside and made it to the door just in time to see the man in black roaring away on a gas powered skateboard. Odd. He'd never seen one of those in town before.

"Rumple?" Gold turned to see Belle staring in confusion behind the counter. Her husband smiled.

"Sold a few knickknacks," he flashed the bills briefly before slipping them into his pocket.

"I didn't hear any other voices," she said.

"A man of few words," he smiled. "Didn't recognize him. No matter," he finished as locked the door and flipped the closed sign on. "Right, where were we then?"

…

Major Raynes tried hard not to get the shakes. Whatever the scientists were working on in the lab room, he wasn't sure he liked it. Some of the doctors on the other side of the safety glass were formerly of Armacham Corporation. The feds seemed all too eager to pardon their mad science, Raynes just hoped the good guys hadn't invested in any of their own.

Short, dark, and creepy sauntered in just a few moments ago with what looked like a retail store bag. Agent Cain accepted the bag with a smile and patted the man in black on the shoulder. Something about the man put Raynes off. He could tell he was military by his stride, but never once took his helmet off and rarely spoke. Raynes wondered if this guy was a reformed Replica. But then so was team one's point man, Wade. Alright to call him Wade, it was his mother's name.

Agent Cain, passed the bag on to a scientist, who brought it into the lab and pulled its contents out. Two very old looking dolls. Raynes went cold at the sight of them, they almost looked like corpses.

The dolls were placed on the table alongside the pyramid shaped device. "Cross your fingers everyone," Agent Cain smiled. "If this works, it'll be the dawn of a whole new era!" he finished as he stood beside Raynes in front of the viewing window. The man in black came to join them.

Raynes thought he like Cain at first, but there was an air of mystery about him. He was much friendlier than most CIA agents, but there always seemed to be something hidden below the surface. Hardly a surprise from a Langley man, but this was different.

"What exactly are we trying to do here, Cain?" Raynes asked? "Blow up some antique dolls?"

Cain smirked at him. "Don't ask questions you wouldn't believe the answer to, Major," he said. "Seeing is believing," he finished with a nod to the window.

The metal pyramid began to shine and flicker. A humming noise echoed throughout the lab walls. Bad memories of Fairport flashed Raynes memory. What were his friends at Langley getting him into this time?

A bright light flashed as a pulse rippled through the lab, shaking the building to its foundation. Raynes figured half of Boston felt that. He thought it was a miracle the building still stood. The ringing in his ears died down and his eyes adjusted back to normal.

"What in the hell?" Raynes demanded.

"Good question," Cain answered, staring in awe through the glass. Raynes followed his gaze and his eyes bulged. He thought his jaw would hit the floor. There on the table, where the dolls had been sitting, sat two very confused looking adult humans. A man and a woman, Raynes figured they were husband and wife by how they clung to each other. Both dressed like they were set to play peasants at a renaissance fair.

"What in God's name?" Raynes gasped.

"What was done to those poor people, was not done in God's name, Major," Cain said thoughtfully. "But they're alright now. And to answer your question, that little pyramid is our silver bullet, to fight off the monsters with," he finished with a toothy smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Raynes shifted in his seat. Agent Cain's office was comfortable, but after what he'd just seen he couldn't relax for the life of him. Dealing with the poor couple hadn't been easy either. Both were certain they had died and gone to hell! Agent Cain was a natural mediator and was able to calm them down after a while and get their story out of them.

The last thing their couple remembered was buying some miracle tonic from traveling peddlers. An obvious con-job, but old tricks seldom fade. Cain explained to them the tonic was a very powerful magic potion which turned them into wooden dolls, and that they had been frozen in time for decades, if not centuries! They were beside themselves, the poor woman even started crying and wailing about their son, Geppetto. The name sounded familiar to Raynes but he couldn't quite place it.

"We're going to need all hands on deck for this, Major," Cain said behind his desk. "Tell your superiors we'll need both teams with as much support from Delta as possible. Don't bother with the National Guards, not yet anyway. And for some extra reinforcements, a few army officers owe me a favor and I know just the unit to call in."

Raynes held up a hand and cleared his throat. "Hold on a minute, boss," he broke in. "Could you please explain what just happened back at the lab? How the hell was any of that possible?"

Cain smiled. "Weren't you listening when I explained to them? It was magic." Raynes looked back at him quizzically. "I'm afraid theirs no science that can make that sort of thing happen, Major. Magic, witches, wizards, warlocks, they're all real. Always have been, and they are out there. Sharing this big blue marble in space with us. Such cruelty as turning a man and wife to dolls and leaving their little boy a helpless orphan means about as much to them as stepping on a slug," he paused to cringe, as if remembering something unpleasant.

"And now, thanks to our R&D team, we have something to counter their power. If their calculations are correct, they can not only reverse such incantations, but even instantly nullify all magic within a hundred mile perimeter," he finished with the smile of a victorious chess player.

Raynes was shocked beyond words. Even all he'd seen at Fairport hadn't prepared him for this. Aramacham's mad science had the look of sorcery, but ultimately was based in the psychic science. This was a whole new ballpark! Raynes shook his head, now was not the time for a mental breakdown. Magic was real, alright then. It was time to focus on keeping insanity like what happened to that couple from happening again.

"So I take it you know where to find the… ones who did that to them?" Raynes asked hesitantly.

"Yes I do. And in, of all places, rural Maine. Not too long of a drive from here, the little town of Storybrooke." Raynes had never heard of it. "In fact there's a number of potentially dangers characters in that town. A fair number of good people though, so be sure your men know not to get itchy trigger fingers."

"Roger that," said Raynes. "What about those reinforcements you had in mind?"

"Are you familiar with the 222nd Army Battalion, B-company to be precise?" Raynes' eyes widened.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"Not at all, I'm afraid."

"You want to unleash that pack of misfits and trouble makers on American soil!" Raynes gasped. "Most of those low-lives would have been rotting in Leavenworth if Russia hadn't gone ape-shit! And now that things have calmed down, some of them just might!"

"I'm not interested in all of them," Cain explained. "It's mainly first platoon I want, and definitely Charlie squad," he pulled out a file and handed it to Raynes. It read 'Bravo-1-Charlie'. Inside was the personal profiles of the four soldiers of Charlie squad. None of them were what you'd call 'exception' soldiers, they weren't highly trained and, except for the Sergeant, showed very little discipline. Uploading viruses to the army's secured network, blowing up officer's latrines, joy-riding in choppers! No wonder they were in Bad Company!

Then he noticed their performances on the battlefield. Somehow, these guys managed to pull through against some staggering odds! If Raynes hadn't just read their personal profiles, he just might have tried to recruit them to FEAR. Were these guys that good, or just lucky? He asked Cain about a final notation on the back cover of the file, 'Treasure Trove', coordinates were written under it which Raynes recognized as somewhere in Texas; the home state of one of the soldiers.

Cain smiled. "Let's just call it leverage, in case their loyalty and patriotism ever falters. But all of first platoon is preferable. Lots of good soldiers there who've come into a bad way, especially their commander, Captain- I mean Lieutenant Martin Walker, someone I believe you're familiar with, from Delta.

Raynes froze again. "I didn't know he was back in the field." It made sense, him being in Bad Company. Not too many other commands were anxious to accept the 'Ghost of Dubai'. "You think he's ready?"

"I know he is," Cain answered with that toothy grin. "He's done well in Bad Company, and he thirsts to prove himself. Nothing motivates a man better."

"It could also get him killed," Raynes half grumbled.

"It could happen to all of us who enter that town, Major," he said thoughtfully. "Let's just pray that device does the trick.

…

Marlow stopped at the roads' edge. It dead ended into a grove of trees. The rest of first platoon had begun to groan the moment it came into eyeshot. The LT was starting to lose his patience, which made everyone nervous; they all pretended not to know his story, but they did.

"Mike-One-Juliet, this is Bravo-One-Actual," Lt. Walker said into the radio. "The road had dead ended with no town in sight, please advise, over."

"Proceed south down the road to the town's northern edge, as ordered, Bravo-one," the sweet voice of Miss July replied.

"The road had dead ended!" Walker snapped.

"Proceed south, as per your orders, Lieutenant, out," Miss July cut him off. Walker fumed visibly.

"Even when ignoring us she still sound stunning!" Sweetwater moaned blissfully.

"Too bad you didn't have the guts to ask her out on R&R," Haggard playfully nudged his shoulder.

"I'm guessing they want us to proceed through the woods, sir," Sergeant Redford said. "Could be the path of an old road from long ago."

"Or this is command's idea of a joke!" Montes chimed in with his usual attitude. "We ARE Bad Company, remember? Come on a small town hidden by 'paranormal forces,'" he mocked their briefing.

Marlow and the others had all chuckled Brainwood's words in the briefing. But the Colonel's face never twitched. He'd been dead serious. He also informed them they were co-oping this mission with First Encounter Assault Recon (FEAR). Most soldiers thought that outfit was little more than a joke, but then most thought the same about Bad Company. Once the laughter in the briefing room died down, Marlow went cold as Brainwood went on with the briefing, not some much as a grunt at the unprofessional hilarity.

"Well, joke or not, it beats the hell out of the front," said Sweetwater.

"If Marlow's tired of being point man, I'll go first," Haggard passed Marlow. "I know my way around the wood- YAW!" Haggard lurched back like he'd seen a ghost.

"What is it Haggard?" Sarge groaned. Haggard stared ahead in silence, then stepped forward only to lurch back again. He stepped forward again and paused.

"Uh… Sweets, Preston?" he gasped. "Would you please come here?" Marlow rolled his eyes, Sweetwater huffed in annoyance, but both stepped up to their comrade and stumbled back in surprise.

Marlow squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head and stepped up again. It was the road! It really did continue on! From where Haggard paused you could see the paved road continue, but stepping back all you saw was the dead end and a thick grove of trees.

"What in the wide-wide-world of insanity is going on here?" Sweetwater whined as he stepped back and forth several times more.

"And they've finally snapped," Montes giggled. "Three more victims of PTSD."

"That's enough!" Walker snapped at the marine. Montes and his buddy Blackburn were both Temporary Assigned Duty (TAD) from the marines to Bad Company. Something about fragging their superior officer, but doing it to stop a terrorist attack…

Walker and Sarge came up from behind Marlow and froze. They saw it too! Next came Blackburn and Montes. Then Mendoza, Bad Company's one and only MP. And there they were, First Platoon (which was more the size of an average squad than a platoon) staring in awe down a road that seemingly appeared by magic. Like it were hidden by an invisible barrier.

"So I… Guess we should do as command said and keep going?" Sweetwater asked hesitantly.

"Well, we're here aren't we?" asked Sarge. "Sir!"

Walker blinked and shook his head. "Yes, good point. Sergeant Redford, I'll take point for this one. Everyone spread out and keep your eyes peeled. I want to know what the hell is going on here!" He finished as he led his men down the road, who followed after carefully.

"And down they went," said Montes, his attitude gone. "Giving no thought to how in the world they would ever get out again."

…

"Just got off the horn with the boys of Bad Company," Raynes announced to the troops at the road block. "They've just reached the northern edge of town. They are holding position and awaiting the order. On the commander's signal, Agent V," he motioned to the black-helmeted figure, who nodded back. "Will proceed into town and plant the device. Trust me, if it works, we'll know," he said waving his arm to the dead-ended road behind him.

"Remember that there are a lot of civilians in this town, and if the device works, the only potential threats will be powerless. So unless the local sheriff's department decides to play soldier, the town should be pacified pretty quickly," Raynes went on. "Should the locals decide to get territorial, rules of engagement are as follows; No one fires unless fired upon, or is assaulted with deadly force. Any questions?" There were none.

Raynes dismissed everyone to their vehicles. FEAR and Delta soldiers all mounted the trucks and hum-vees. Team one's point man gripped his shotgun. The spaz 12 was a long-time friend of his. Saved him plenty of times at Fairport and numerous missions since. FEAR and Delta had been given the full briefing, not the cherry picked one that Bad Company got. They had all the details command could give. Even after all he'd been through, it unnerved him.

"Wade?" Jin approached him. He managed a smile and a nod. "You ready for this?" He nodded again. She sighed in disgust. "This is our first mission together in ages, the least you could do is-" he cut her off by leaning forward and planting a kiss on his lover's lips. He turned quickly to make sure no one saw them. Their relationship was technically out of regulation, but if command knew they weren't making a fuss about it. Maybe that was why the always gave them separate missions.

Jin smiled. They had grown closer over the past few years. She was practically a mother to little Alma, though her not-so-official boyfriend was technically Alma's big brother. Wade smiled right back at her. She reached up and stroked his thick black beard. "You might at least wish me luck. You know how much I hate coming to this state." Wade remembered her last assignment to this area, a year ago. The one she almost didn't make it back from.

"Good luck," he said. Her smile widened and she kissed him quickly before turning and making her way to the Rayne's hum-vee in the middle of the convoy. She walked nice and slow, knowing how well she wore the uniform. Wade hated to see her go, but he loved to watch her leave.

"I'm actually looking forward to this," Jin said over her shoulder with a grin. "I always wanted to meet a real princess."

…

Emma took her mother's hand at the table. She always loved their weekly dinners at Granny's. All her friends, who were more like family at this point were sitting around the table. Henry sat between her and Regina as usual. Killian to her right, Snow beyond him. After years of fighting and otherworldly threats, Storybrooke was finally at peace, and had been for months.

As usual the Golds were the last to arrive, but were welcomed warmly. Even Killian was able to at least put on the show of welcome. Emma was proud of him for that. She blinked as she realized she thought she'd seen him earlier. As usual he wore his habitual black suit. She scanned the room until she spied another black-clad figure, he stood over the jukebox as if checking each tract.

She got up to greet the man. He answered his cell phone and whispered something before quickly hanging up. At the sound of Emma's voice he turned in surprise at the crowded table. "Pardon me," he said with smile. "It seems I'm intruding. I must have missed last call."

"No it's fine," Emma smiled back. "Ugh… Maybe we can find a place for you-"

"Oh no!" he cut her off. "I couldn't possibly intrude. I'm here in town on business anyway. Just saw the old jukebox there and couldn't resist having a look." Emma nodded and repressed a grimace. She knew he didn't look familiar. But how did he get into town? Wasn't the spell supposed to keep that from happening?

"What kind of business, may I ask?"

"The legal kind, I'm afraid," he answered promptly. "You must be the sheriff? Ms. Swan… or rather Mrs. Jones."

Emma blinked. "Yes, how did-"

"Your reputation proceeds you, sheriff," he said. "I don't suppose you could introduce me to the Madam Mayor?" Emma nodded and escorted him to the table, across from Regina. The loud roar of an engine past the diner. A motor cycle, Emma figured. The man smiled greeted Regina with a nodding bow. "Good evening Madam Mayor, I'm Mr. Cain, a servant of the court. I truly hate to be the bearer or less-than-pleasant-news, especially on such a festive occasion," he went on. Emma blinked, he certainly didn't look like he hated this job. "But I'm afraid I must serve you with these court summons. It is what it is, I'm afraid."

He handed her three separate sheets from his coat pocket. She unfolded them and her eyes widened. "Multiple accounts of kidnapping? Masterminding illegal immigration? One account of murder in the first degree?!" She read the summons one by one, growing more shocked with each. She stood up in defiance, Emma trembled at the look on her face.

"Please, Ms. Mills, don't slay the messenger," Cain held up a hand in submission, but kept the smug grin on his face. "Like I said, it is what it is." Regina visibly fumed.

"I truly hate that saying," she grumbled.

"Of course you do, Your Majesty," Cain said. "It means you're helpless: powerless." Emma's breath caught in her throat. He just called her 'your majesty.' "It means not matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, no matter how viciously you fight, or how pleadingly you beg, there's nothing you can do to make things any better. All you can do is live with it and try to make the best out of a bad situation. As a certain acquaintance of mine at a bar once said, 'that phrase means you're screwed and you're going to stay that way,' though his exact words were a bit cruder than that."

Regina blinked. Emma was lost for words. "How dare you," Regina roared. "Who do you think you are?"

"Please, Your Majesty, relax," he said soothingly. Regina looked confused, as if she'd just realized what he'd called her. "You may find this hard to believe, but I know how you feel. Yes I do. That burning sting of being powerless, that feeling of hopelessness. It has turned many good and kind people into cruel monsters. No doubt the same thing you felt the day your own mother murdered the man you loved. And the day the next man you loved gave his life for you," he paused to turn to Mr. Gold at the far right of the table. By now all the guests had gone silent and were looking at Cain in shocked silence.

"And the same you felt, Rumpelstiltskin, the day your father abandoned you for eternal youth, and again the day you crippled yourself to avoid death in battle, yet again the day you thought your wife kidnapped by a pirate," he paused for a brief glimpse at Killian. "Then again the day soldiers came to conscript your boy, and the day your son chose a world without magic over a world with you as the dark one." Gold looked surprised, Emma didn't think that was a good sign.

"And please believe me that I know and understand how you both feel," Cain went on. "Just like a little boy felt all those years ago, in that god-forsaken mud-hole of a village. When the dark one turned his papa into a slimy little slug, and crushed him beneath his boot-heal," he finished with a hard stomp, which took the entire room by surprise.

A buzzing noise rang out from Cain's pocket. The darkness and repressed rage in his voice vanished as he answered his cell. That smug grin returned as he silently mouthed "One second please." A faint young voice came from the cell. "Trigger," Cain said and promptly hung up. Emma didn't like the sound of that.

"What have you done?" Emma gasped.

"My job, Mrs. Jones," he said. "You wanted a world without magic, Your Highness! You got it!" he loudly announced as ground began to tremble. A humming sound began to echo. "And everything that goes with it!" he finished, almost shouting.

The hum became deafening and brilliant flash of light blinded Emma. Then it felt like the ground would open up beneath her.

…

Marlow blinked several times, trying to get his vision back to normal. Would it have killed command to give them a warning? Marlow and the rest of first platoon stumbled to their feet.

"What the hell was that?" Haggard gasped. "The scalar weapon?"

"It couldn't be!" Sweetwater answered. "We'd have heard it revving up like before!" The two marines began to cuss and Sarge grumbled something about getting too old for this.

"That's enough!" Walker shouted, his eyes locked on the sky. Marlow followed his gaze. Something was shimmering up there, like a large dome over the town and it seemed to be crumbling and dissipating into thin air!

"Ugh… Hags?" Sweetwater asked. "You're into all that religious stuff right? Anything about this in like, revelations or something?"

"Not specifically, but if this is what command says it is, I don't think there's anything holy about this."

"Bravo-One, this is Mike-One-Juliet!" Miss July crackled over the radio.

"This is Bravo-One-Actual," Walker replied. "Are you guys seeing this shit?"

"Seeing, Bravo-One. Still working on believing," she answered. Marlow was relieved, it wasn't just him. That invisible barrier that kept them from seeing the road till they stepped through it was vanishing before their eyes. If Marlow harbored any doubt in magic and wizards, it was gone now.

"What do we do?" Sweetwater stammered.

"Game's afoot!" the grizzled voice of Major Raynes barked over the radio. "All units, Game's afoot! For God and country!" he repeated the code word for the full scale attack on the town.

"That's your cue, Bravo-One, you know your orders. Get to that hospital and hold it. Out," Miss July finished. Silence blared as the boys of Bad Company looked from one to the other.

"Well you heard the lady," Walker shattered the silence. "Hospitals about two clicks down the road. Expedite!" he finished and took off jogging ahead.

"Alright, ladies, let's move it!" Sarge barked. "Don't let an officer show you up." First Platoon took off after their leader. Not a word of attitude from Montes, or anyone. They were all in unknown territory. And after what they'd just seen, following orders was the only way to get answers.


	4. Chapter 4

Wade kicked in the door of the diner and stormed in with the rest of his squad. Most guests at the crowded table trembled in terror. Some of them stood up in defiance. The point man leveled his rifle at the man glaring protectively beside a gorgeous blonde. A quick scan and he noticed the man was missing a hand. Not only that but it was replaced by a metal hook.

The blonde stood strong beside her protector. Another couple about her age stood as well. "Everyone please remain calm," Agent Cain called out, his arms raised soothingly. "These men are professional soldiers of the Federal Government. They will not fire unless provoked. Their unit is designated FEAR; First Encounter Assault Recon. The Federal Government founded this unit in 2002 to counter paranormal threats to national security. In fact, you all are partially responsible for their creation."

The civilians all looked dumbstruck. "Come on, Your Highness? Dark One?" he turned briefly to an older gentleman in black at the far end of the table, arm in arm with a woman who looked too young for him. "You didn't really thing you're little town went unnoticed all this time, did you?"

A dark haired woman exchanged glances with the older gentleman. Both dumbstruck. "Maybe back in the dark ages or in Victorian times this little experiment might have gone unnoticed, but these days? Even with 1980s tech, you really thought you could rip the fabric of time and space a structurally superfluous new rear-end and not have anyone notice?" the crowd was stunned to silence.

"It also wasn't exactly subtle to start your life here by trying to kidnap a boy and murdering his father in cold blood," Cain went on. Wade had no idea what he was talking about, but he figured the gentleman and the brunette were the warlocks behind all this mystic insanity. "No one would believe that poor boy and the wild story he told. No one but me and the CIA. Who do you think taught him that little jumper cable trick?" he asked with a shark smile. The brunette grimaced and visibly trembled.

"Come now, Regina. I think deep down inside, you know you owed him that one. I mean when a child's father is taken from him… Not that you can relate to that, since technically you didn't lose your father some much as you threw him away," he finished darkly.

Wade scanned the rest of the party guests, they were indeed a mixed bag. They looked to be from all walks of life, but all gathered together for a big dinner. It all looked and smelled good too. Wade couldn't help but feel a little sorry they'd interrupted. He'd never had a real family or been part of a community like this. Most soldiers mingled pretty well but, that was never his thing.

Even with him and Jin, subtlety moving in together and taking care of little Alma, he was only just learning how family felt. Cain went on more cordially and introduced himself to the rest of the guests. Wade blinked as he referred to the other young couple as "Snow White and Prince Charming". At first he thought he'd misheard. Then he heard soft grunts around him and turned to see his squad mates looking at each other in confusion. They couldn't believe what they'd heard either.

"You have no idea what an honor it truly is to meet the legendary figures themselves!" Cain said in wonder. "Your legends have inspired so much of this world's culture; art, literature, music. And not even just the two of you, all of you! Which brings me to my next point, is Senior Geppetto here?" An elderly man stood up nervously beside a younger man.

"Oh no, no please, you might want to stay seated for this part, Senior Geppetto. Now, despite the bombastic entrance and seemingly menacing presence here, I hope that you will all take this as a gesture that, despite our drastic precautions to disarm you, we truly do come here in good faith and with no intention to harm any of you," he went on. "Sergeant Wade, if you would please order second squad to escort our two civilian guests inside?"

Wade repeated the order over the radio and moments later Jin and another soldier led the young civilian couple into the diner. They'd ridden in the back of Cain's hum-vee and were dressed very plainly. Like their clothes were borrowed or donated. Cain welcomed the couple in with his warm smile and presented them before the confused party guests.

The elderly man shot from his seat, trembling to the bone. His eyes bulged like they would go flying. The old man staggered around the table. One of the men trained his rifle on him, only to be waved off by Cain. The young couple gazed at him in confusion as he rounded the table and staggered closer to them. The poor man's eyes welled with tears. "Mama? Papa?" he whimpered.

The young couple gasp. But after a moment seemed to recognize him. "Geppetto?" the woman asked hesitantly. "My boy!" she cried out as she took the old man into her arms. The man hesitated for a moment then joined the embrace with passion. "My boy! Look at you! You are all grown up!" the woman gasped through her tears.

The man sitting next to Geppetto at the table stood and came around to them. The old man tearfully introduced him as "My son, Pinocchio." The couple embraced him with equal passion.

Wade was now thoroughly confused. How could a man his age be their son? And the names rang a bell. Armacham hadn't allowed him much literature as a child, but he was given an occasional book. One of them was Pinocchio.

The other party guest were mostly frozen in shock. The two couples behind the table were tearing up and holding each other. Wade hated to admit it to himself but it was starting to get to him too. Cain stood off to the side in silence with a smug, but not arrogant, grin.

"It's not possible!" the gentleman in black gasped wide-eyed.

Cain laughed. "From you, Rumpelstiltskin, I'll take that as a compliment."

He turned with a warm smile to the dark figure that came through the door. Agent V everyone called him. Allegedly highly trained and skilled, but hardly uttered a word and Wade had never seen him without that black helmet on. He seemed to Wade like one of those silent protagonists in video games.

"Agent V, I trust you've been properly relieved by, third squad?" Cain asked. V nodded. "Mr. and Mrs. Geppetto, allow me to introduce you to the man who liberated you from the Dark One," he motioned to V. The family turned to him, but looked somewhat startled at his appearance. Rumpelstiltskin blinked in recognition. "Oh for God's sake Ven, this isn't Star Wars! Enough with the helmet! What am I, the emperor?" he laughed.

Ven? Wade wondered what that was short for. But the soldier did as he was told and casually removed his helmet. Wade grimaced, the man looked about high school age, not a day over 18. Short blonde hair, short but kind of spiky. And deep blue eyes. He looked friendly, but his face betrayed years of unpleasantness. In that last respect, he reminded Wade of himself.

The Geppetto family smiled and thanked Ven, to which he nodded with a slight smile. Cain eventually stepped in and offered the Geppettos an escort back to the family home. "After all you have much to talk about, and none of you are persons of interest in this investigation. Perhaps the uh… Good doctor would care to join you as well?" He motioned to a shy looking man with short curly hair and glasses, who had been watching the family with intense happiness; he looked as though he'd been suppressing tears. The doctor smiled and stood to leave with them.

Two soldiers escorted them home, not some much to guard them as to make sure no other soldiers bothered them. Cain patted Ven on the back and motioned him to one of the booths along the wall. He'd been awake for days and now he could finally rest. Cain went on to explain it was Ven who roared by on that motor-board earlier. He'd placed the device which disabled all magic in the town inside city hall. The dark haired woman, who seemed to be the leader looked at him with apprehension. As did some of the others.

Ven made himself comfortable on a nearby booth and seemed to fall asleep immediately. Wade exchanged glances with Jin. They both envied him.

"Oh yes! I almost forgot," Cain exclaimed as he strode over to Rumpelstiltskin's seat. He casually outstretched his hand. "Would you kindly, surrender your dagger, sir?" he asked. The gentleman frowned nervously. "Come now, dark one, it's of no use to you now and you know it."

"Here!" the lovely brunette with the baby sitting next to him called out. She reached into her purse and produced a stranger looking dagger, there was something inscribed on the blade, its edges were curved in an almost zigzag pattern. "He gave it to me," she said, holding it out to Cain. Her and the "Dark One" exchanged glances, he gave a brief nod.

Cain accepted the blade and grinned over it. Even held it up into the light. "Remarkable!" he said. "Any of you know what my favorite movie is? Excalibur! Anyone seen it?"

"I have!" a teenaged by called out, he looked a few years younger than Ven.

"Of course you have, Henry," replied Cain. "Wonderful isn't it?" The teen nodded with a smirk. "Then you must remember what Merlin said about lying?" the teen blinked in confusion and nodded. Cain waved his hand, indicating him to go on.

"That every time someone tells a lie, a piece of the universe dies," Henry answered. Cain smiled grimly and nodded slowly as he turned back to the man in black.

"That's right," he said. "Someone just killed a piece of the universe, and someone has to pay." To Wade's shock, Cain swiftly brought the dagger down on Rumpelstiltskin's left hand, resting on the table. The man cried out in pain, all but drowned out by the brunette and half the table screaming. The baby cried loudly.

"Everyone please remain calm!" Cain called, not quite shouting. "Mrs. Stiltskin, as a married man myself I appreciate what you tried to do for your husband, but I'm afraid all you've done is invoke my ire!" he said calmly to the brunette. "You see, Belle, I already know about that little trick your husband played on you, giving you a decoy dagger," he turned from the sobbing bride back to her much-older-husband. "Now, Mr. Stiltskin, I will repeat myself. Would you kindly surrender your dagger to me?!" he growled venomously.

Mr. Stiltskin, trembling and panting in agony, reached into his coat pocket with his free hand and produced an identical dagger. Cain accepted the dagger and swiftly withdrew the decoy from his hand. Mr. Stiltskin clutched his bloodied hand, his wife produce a handkerchief to stay the bleeding.

Cain composed himself. "Thank you both for your cooperation," he grinned. "Medic," he called to one of the soldiers standing near the entrance. "See to this man's wound, and give him some painkillers, I will not begrudge you that, Dark One," he finished darkly. The medic got to work, first producing some pills.

Wade looked to Jin again, she was as disgusted as he was. He'd had worse in that Brazilian prison Armacham had locked him in, but this took things too far. He'd already gathered that this Dark One was bad news, but they had him. The predator was defanged. Cain clearly had an axe to grind.

"Well, now that all that unpleasantness is over, let's move on to other businesses, Queen Regina" he turned to the dark haired woman. Wade turned to Ven to see him lying awake on the booth. He seemed displeased with the boss too, like he was reminiscing about something unpleasant. But he soon shrugged and went back to sleep.

…

Ven took another swig of beer. It was a quaint little cantina. Nothing fancy, but then most things weren't in communist ruled Cuba; not anymore. Unless of course you're Fidel Castro or one of his lap dogs. With any luck, his team and him were successful, 1961 would be the year of liberation from Soviet puppet-rule.

"Let's go over this gain," Frank Woods said to the bartender. Carlos use to own the planation nearby, now it was Castro's illicit getaway spot. Of course he could take any woman he wanted to his luxury bed chamber. Half the women in the country would jump in front of a bullet for him, and the rest were too afraid of him to say no. Ven cringed at the thought of what he'd do to one particular woman.

"Get your head in the game, kid!" Mason snapped. Ven hated being called kid, but he couldn't exactly make himself age. Woods went over the plan again, softly. They knew the police would be there soon, and they all knew one of the best way to survive in a communist nation was to keep your ears peeled and inform on people whenever possible.

Ven tried not to be distracted by the gorgeous girl dancing in front of the bar. She had short dark hair and wore a red and white-floral-patterned dress, cut short. She was shapely with lean thighs, women in Cuba didn't mind making a show of themselves. Ven found himself imagining Aqua in that dress, dancing like she was.

On the rare occasion the master would take them to festivals and parties in the local town, Aqua always stood shyly off to the side and wouldn't never dance to the music. Plenty of other boys would approach her and offer to dance with her. She'd always blush and struggle for an excuse not to. Ven knew she wanted to, but her shyness got the better of her. She knew she was a skilled keyblade wielder, but never saw herself as a beautiful girl. One time Ven almost asked her to dance with him, but chickened out. Ven wished he could go back and slap himself.

"The police are here!" Woods said as the uniformed thugs burst through the door. "Play it cool," he whispered and casually puffed on his cigarette. One cop grabbed the dancing girl and hissed a curse in her face before throwing her to the floor. She ran out the back. Ven strained himself not to draw and blow the cop's brains out.

The commie glared at Mason and started talking in English, an old trick to slip up a spy. The cop roared in his face and slammed his palm down on the bar. Woods sprang into action, driving a knife through his hand and glassing him in the head with a beer bottle. Ven drew his pistol and downed the other two cops with Bowman.

Carlos broke open a wooden crate and handed out M-16 assault rifles. Moments later they were all locked and loaded. More sirens and flashing lights came from outside. Woods kicked the door open and led the team out into the streets, spraying commies as they went. Mason fingered his mounted grenade launcher and cop car went up in flames. Ven and the others downed several more as they battle down the streets.

The cops were on full alert. The Bay of Pigs invasion had begun. Cuban nationalists would reclaim their country. Now all that was left was to behead the asp that hissed atop their country's throne. Castro would die tonight.

The four U.S. Army Green Berets blasted their way through the streets to their car hidden in an alley. Once behind the wheel, Mason gunned the engine, running over cops, smashing through cars and out into the woods. Air Force bombers nearly blew them to pieces several times as they approached the plantation. Ven recognized the B-26 bombers soaring overhead, decades out of date. Why the hell weren't they using B-52s or any of the newer models?

They reached the edged of the plantation just before dawn, then advanced on the main building when Carlos' flare went up, signaling the attack on the airfield had begun. Bowman and Woods led the way, knifing guards from behind as the team approached a side entrance to the mansion.

Woods burst through the door and began spraying Cuban troops. The rest of the team followed, keeping low as Castro's personal guard sprayed bullets through the wooden walls of the centuries old mansion. Bowman and Ven took the right wing of the building, Woods and Mason went left.

Bowman insisted on leading the way, he knew by now to trust Ven for covering fire, this hadn't been Ven's first outing. Cubans burst from every room, charging to the rescue of their hero; a mass murderer. Ven and Bowman filled them with lead without hesitation. Both had seen the horrors that lay behind the iron curtain. They'd nearly fought their way to the main entrance hall when Woods chimed over the radio. "Target down!"

They'd gotten the bastard! But Ven was too busy to celebrate. Bombs came down and shook the mansion to its foundations. Parts of the roof began to cave in, burning rafters came down around him. Even as the house caught flame, Castro's guards came charging in with fanatical vigor, if they couldn't protect their master, they would die to avenge him.

A flaming guard burst from a side room behind Ven and lurched for him. Ven hadn't had time to reload. He let the rifle drop, drew his knife, backhand like always, swung at the burning commy's throat and swiftly kicked him backwards. The body went limp.

"Outside!" Woods shouted from the other side of the entrance. "Carlos will be here!" Ven and Bowman rushed out just ahead of Woods and Mason and dodged instantly to the ground. Cuban troops were flooding the plantation. A fifty caliber machine gun sprayed them from a truck, snipers fired from the guard towers. Ven and Bowman waited for the fifty to run dry before firing over the stone railing to bring down the gunner. Mason and Woods took down the snipers.

Castro's army was good, but not that good. They made up for their lack of quality with sheer quantity. More trucks screeched to a halt for dozens more to leap off and open fire. Ven fired with fury. Ammo was running low, he still had his pistol and knife though. Somehow he'd protect his team mates. If he took too many bullets he'd have to convincingly fake death, which hated doing, but wouldn't have much of a choice.

To his relief, Carlos and his men came over the walls and decimated the commies. But their reunion wasn't a happy one. Castro or no Castro, the invasion was falling apart. Castro's men were slaughtering the Nationalists. There was no choice, they had to make their way to the airfield and fly to safety.

They arrived to an airfield under siege, no longer by the Nationalists, but the Communists. Most of Carlos' men were dead, the few that surrendered wouldn't end up much better. The four American assassins sprinted across the airstrip amid falling bombs and mortars. Cuban troops fired wildly after as they ran. But the transport plane's engines were primed and ready as they climbed.

The plane coasted down the runway. Mason and Ven fired M-60 machine guns wildly as Commies swarmed them. They fell by the dozen. Carlos cursed as they rounded the corner onto the main strip. The Cubans had blocked it off with trucks at the other end. Before anyone could object, Mason leapt from the plane and ran to an AA gun along the strip. He fired the cannon several times at the trucks, blowing them to bits and clearing the runway.

The pilot gunned the engine and took off over the burning remains. "Damn you, Mason!" Woods roared over the radio.

"I'll be fine, just go!" he called back. Ven swallowed hard. No he wouldn't be. Ven cursed himself for not coming up with that idea himself. The flight back to a friendly base was silent and sullen. Their small victory amid defeat no longer mattered.

The next day, the three remaining assassins were disgusted to find out Castro still lived. It had been a decoy, a double, Mason had killed. This didn't bode well for Mason. The Cubans would have been furious at Castro's death, but soon one of his lieutenants would realize he'd done them a favor. Now the man himself would make sure he suffered.

It was defeat Ven had never felt before and hoped he never would again. A lost chance to free a nation and so many good men gone. In the end Cuba went down as yet another world Ven was supposed to save, but couldn't.

…

"First Platoon, stack up on me!" Walker called. Preston came up behind him as they all took positions outside the hospital entrance. Walker readied his rifle and stepped through the automatic doors. Preston followed and the rest in succession. The receptionist gasped in surprise, a nurse dropped a whole box of pills.

"Check your fire, we've got civilians," Walker ordered. "Get Dr. Whale down here now," he almost growled. The traumatized woman nodded and called for the doctor over the intercom. Walker turned to the men.

"Alright, you know our orders. No one comes in no one leaves until command says otherwise. Redford, Marlow, you both stay her with me, take positions and cover the main entrance. Blackburn, Montes, you two have the rear exit. Mendoza, make a full circle of the building and see if there's any ways in or out we've missed, stay in radio contact. Haggard, Sweetwater, you two check the psychiatric ward, make sure all the patients are secured, then report back to me."

The men nodded and went about their orders, except for Haggard, who held up his hand like a kid in school. Walker sighed, "What is it Haggard?"

"Yeah, ugh, LT? Where exactly is the psychiatric ward?" Walker frowned, he and Sweetwater both pointed up to a sign dangling from the ceiling pointing the ways to different areas, including the psych ward. "Oh, right. Don't look at me like that, this is only like the second time I've ever been to a hospital! Even as a kid I like never get sick. I'm one of those 'Immune' types from the movies, right?"

"How about I shoot you, so you can have your first sick call?" Walker snapped, to Haggard's visible dismay. "Sweetwater, take Haggard down to the psych ward and take his mouth with him! And keep yours shut too while you're at it!" Sweetwater opened his mouth to acknowledge, but a swift glare from Walker made him think better of it. He tapped Hags on the shoulder and led him down the hall in silence.

Mendoza chimed in over the radio to report no other entrances. Two fire escapes down opposite ends of the building though. Walker ordered him to keep roving and report anyone who looked suspicious.

The elevator dinged and a very annoyed man in a lab coat came out. "What the devil is going on Ms.-" he froze in mid-sentence as he saw the three armed men in uniform glaring at him.

"Dr. Whale, I'm Lieutenant Martin Walker, U.S. Army. You and your staff are confined to this building until I say otherwise. No one leaves without my say so." The good doctor was disgusted.

"Who do you people think you are?" he demanded.

"I'm a commissioned officer in the United States Army," Walker snapped, shoving him hard in the shoulder and backing him against the wall. "This town is now under martial law, my orders are to secure this building and persons of interest inside it. Which means this building is my post, my castle. Under military law, what I say goes. You don't need to like it, but you WILL respect my authority here or else I'll have Private Marlow escort you down to the ward with the rest of your world's trouble makers and lock you up. With one of the less cooperative inmates, if necessary!"

Whale swallowed hard and nodded in submission. "You can go about your business as usual," Walker went on, sounding less intense. "But don't get any ideas about sneaking off. I have every exit guarded and the fire escapes are being watched. My men and I will be here until such a time we are ordered to stand down; today, tomorrow, when Hell freezes over!"

…

"If there's a hell it must have frozen over!" Sweetwater laughed. "For once you got told to shut up!" He led the way down the stairs to the ward.

Haggard rolled his eyes. "Whatever, he told you to shut it too!"

"That was preemptive! It doesn't count!"

"Like Hell it don't!"

A woman stood from behind a desk at the base of the stairs. "Gentlemen, may I help you?" she asked professionally, only grimacing slightly at their guns and uniforms.

"Ugh, yeah-"

"Hags! Let me handle this! Ma'am, ugh, we are with the U.S. Army and, ugh this town is under martial law. So I have to ask you to surrender the keys to this ward, all its occupants are hence forth persons of interest in a military investigation," Sweetwater explained, in his usual brand of awkwardness. Haggard sighed.

"I will do no such thing," the woman said defiantly. "These are all mental patients who are extremely vulnerable and I'm required by law to-"

She gasped and lurched back with her hands up as Haggard leveled his shotgun at her. Sweetwater shrugged and did the same with his machine gun. "How about now?" Haggard asked. She drew the keys from her pocket and dropped them on the table. Haggard snatched them before Sweetwater could, and smiled with glee at his frustration. "Now that wasn't so hard now was it?"

…

"Thank you Ms. July, keep me posted," Cain said into his radio. "Objective Bravo, is your local hospital," he explained to Regina and her guests. "I know from my informant that you house a number of villainous persons there. Of course the last thing I want is for people like King George and Lady Tremaine on the loose."

"How do you know so much about us?" Regina asked, trying hard not to sound demanding. This was the first she'd been without magic in a long time. What happened to Gold a moment ago proved this man meant business. She didn't want to admit how naked she felt without magic. This Cain had gotten under her skin and seemed to be relishing in it.

"Oh yes, my informant. I believe you know him as 'the writer'," he said. Regina's eyes widened. That bastard, he ran to the feds! "We found him, Your Majesty, not the other way around," Cain interrupted her thoughts, almost like he could read them, or maybe she was just easy to read. "Just after he left Storybrooke in that car you gave him. He seemed to be convinced the world was about to end."

"If that's what this is all about," Regina composed herself. "Then you have nothing to worry about, the problem has been dealt with."

"I figured," Cain nodded. "Your writer told us about the Dark Fairy, Mr. Stiltskin's mother, no less, explains a lot if you ask me," he snickered. "But no, when we stopped detecting the mass of dark energy comging from this sector, we realized the 'good guys' had won again.

"You could detect it?" Regina asked.

"Yes, as I mentioned before this little town of yours was never as secret as you meant it to be. But we only just recently gained our wealth of knowledge about you all. It started out small, collecting samples, occasionally sending an odd spy through your barrier, not to engage but just to observe and report. But now as you can see, things have progressed."

Regina tried hard not to blush. She was certain her spell was flawless and undetectable. Her pride got in the way of her work. Not for the first time either. "The reason we're all here is a bit simpler. You and the Dark One." He looked back and forth between the two of them. "Of course without magic you're not much of a threat, but I wasn't exactly planning on keeping your town under martial law forever. You and your mentor do have quite the reputation, so you can see why we're not as forgiving as the Charming family," he finished with a nod to the Charmings, who looked back at him sternly.

"What do we have to do to convince your government we mean them no harm?" Regina asked.

"Nothing," he answered. "I'll take care of the government. I've got plenty of friends on Capitol Hill and in the White House. What you both need to do, is convince me," he said with a quick glance at Gold. Regina gulped, this wasn't going to be easy. "What might help with me is the truth," he shot a quick glare at Belle. "I'm a CIA agent, I deal in deception constantly. I'm a very good liar, but in negotiations, the truth is paramount. And that's what this, Your Majesty, a negotiation."

"Do most of your negotiations involve guns and stabbings?" she asked. He smiled back.

"When you're attempting negotiations with an enemy who thinks itself superior to you, always negotiate from a position of strength," he said, as if lecturing a classroom. "I admit I lost my temper earlier. But when dealing with one as dangerous as the Dark One, precautions must be taken. As long as we are honest with each other from now on, I promise there will be no more violence."

"And if these negotiations go well?"

"Well, you and your town will be left alone. You'll be treated as any other local government in these United States. Except of course with an occasional inspection by proper authorities, just in case any of you may regress back into a less enlightened state," Cain explained. "But should this go badly," he paused, probably for dramatic effect.

"I'm afraid you and your mentor will have to be physically restrained, as will anyone who tries to interfere," he paused to scan the table. "This town will be put on constant surveillance, possibly even military occupation. You will all be treated at best, as refugees. At worst, as illegal immigrants; who cannot be deported, will not be given citizenship. It might not be so bad for the Charmings and the rest of your citizens, but you Your Majesty and your mentor, will be taken to separate maximum security facilities, and be kept in drug induced comas for the rest of your natural lives."

The thought of it shook Regina to the bone. She turned to see the Golds clutching each other. "Regina, do as he says," Gold said, his voice trembling.

"Mr. Cain," Snow stood up, David stood with her. "If my word means anything at all, please believe me, Regina truly has changed. She's not like she was before."

"I wish I could, princess, I truly do," Cain replied apologetically. "But let's be honest, you have trusted her in the past, just like you trusted her mother, Cora. As much as I admire a trusting, honest person, I've seen many a trusting and honest person meet much worse fates than you did. And none of their afflictions could be solved with true loves kiss."

Snow lowered her head in sorrow and sat down looking regretfully at Regina, who nodded in gratitude. "Now, first order of business," Cain announced and produced a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Who is this girl, your other self just wrote to you about?"

Regina winced in confusion. What was he talking about? Then her eyes widened, the letter she found on her desk before leaving for dinner! She'd already taken the letters from her business mail box, it must have been sent from the other her. "I hadn't read her letter yet," Regina explained nervously as she took the letter from her coat, the envelope was still sealed. "How could you possibly-"

"Know what it's about?" Cain finshed for her. "Among the wonders of our new technology developed in the past week, we've managed a way to intercept transmissions sent via magic. This one came through just a few hours ago. Why don't you go ahead and read it?"

Regina opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. It read, "Dear Regina. With everything happening so fast I completely forgot to tell you something. While I was still the Evil Queen, another interdimensional version of us contacted me. She gave me a crystal shard containing someone from her universe, she knew she could trust me not to have an attack of conscience. Thanks to you her trust was ill-placed. I opened the crystal out of curiosity to find a strange girl inside, maybe a little older than Henry. Pretty little thing; blue eyes, matching hair (strangely). She seemed so innocent yet so strong, she reminded me of Snow. Not wanting to get distracted, I disguised myself as you and committed her to the psych-ward. She's still there now, room 7. Please let the poor girl out. Signed Regina."

"So there's yet another of you out there in the multi-verse?" Cain asked, having correctly guessed she'd finished the letter. "The plot thickens! No doubt some poor soul who stood up to her but wasn't quite strong enough is trembling in that nut-ward. As if being defeated by you wouldn't be traumatizing enough. Blue eyes and blue hair though, that's original! Must be an anime fan."

The whole diner jolted in surprise as Ven gasped loudly awake. "Girl with blue hair!" he hoarsely exclaimed. In the blink of an eye he shot from the booth and snatched the copy of the letter from Cain's hand. The soldier's boss blinked in amazement. Ven looked the letter over several times. "By your leave sir," he said, snapping to attention.

"Is something wrong Ven?"

"By your leave sir?"

Cain's face straightened. "Someone you know?" he asked, snatching the letter back.

"She could be, sir. I just need to make sure," Ven replied. Cain paused for a moment of thought, then nodded and gave him leave to go. With a quick salute, Ven darted from the diner and moments later his motorized skateboard roared away.

…

A few miles outside the bay of Storybrooke, a black helicopter hovered in ultraquiet mode. The man sitting in the passenger compartment eyed the radar. No U.S. military air traffic to be seen. The CIA probably figured it'd be more subtle this way. His radio crackled, his men and the Russian troops were now in position at the northern border of the town. The Legionnaire smiled. Did they really think they were the only ones who knew about this town and its famous inhabitants? No matter, tonight would be a game changer.


	5. Chapter 5

…Peking, China 1900…

Ven silently slinked out the U.S. Embassy window and down into the streets of Peking. The Boxers had been rampaging throughout the city for days. Attacking any foreigners they found, but they were especially brutal to fellow Chinese who knelt to Jesus instead of Buddha. Even after a full century, Ven still didn't know which of this world's religions he found more convincing, but Jesus had always seemed the nicer one, so he generally leaned a little more on his side.

Ven honed his senses with every step through the mid-night streets. The Boxers could be anywhere. And they hated everyone who wasn't them. And they were so hopped up on hallucinogenic drugs, they'd butcher their own grandmother alive if she wore a crucifix. He'd smirked when first he'd heard the Boxers called themselves the "Righteous Harmony Fist Society." There was more of arrogance and discord to their fists. And a society like theirs deserved to be overthrown, as far as Ven was concerned.

Ven knew this was stupid. A marine abandoning his post didn't have much of a future in the Corps. But if the old man was right and she really was in the imperial palace, Ven had to chance it. The old man's story had been vague, he was a member of the cleaning crew in the palace, who thought he'd kept his faith in Jesus a secret. The Empress didn't even want the barbarian religion or its followers to sweep her steps. But the day one of those fanatics tried to kill him, he'd over heard a conversation about a mystically powered girl and seen a head of blue hair before the Empress's door swung shut.

Empress Cixi was known for believing in mysticism and, like her fanatical followers in the Boxers, didn't shy away from calling on magic. If the old man was right, Aqua was in trouble. And since she was no more Chinese than he was, Ven knew the Empress wouldn't have anything good in mind for her. Nothing else mattered to Ven, not the Corps, not the war, or even his adoptive country. Aqua was in danger and he was going to save her.

Ven kept quiet as he approached the tunnel through the wall, which led out into the main city. His only path to the palace. Boxers and Imperial troops snuck into the legation quarter on a daily basis for raids, but Ven's only way out was the conventional one. All he had to do now was sneak past the tunnel's one defender, Private Dan Daly, assuming the Boxers hadn't already overthrown and killed him. He was a good marine, Daly, he'd smiled when their CO, reluctantly, ordered him to stay and keep watch till morning. "See you in the morning," he'd said with confidence.

The makeshift barricade stood at the mouth of the tunnel, but no sign of Daly. Had the Boxers gotten through? Was Daly dead? Ven considered turning back and warning the others when a mighty pair of arms grappled him from behind and wrestled him to the ground.

"I got you, you little- Ven?" Daly's voice growled into his ear. Ven shook free of his comrade. "Ericson, what the hell are you doing out here?" Daly asked. They had their orders, no one was to leave the embassy without permission. Ven frowned.

"Remember that girl I mentioned?" Ven asked, harkening back to a day on shore leave when he made the mistake of drinking with his comrades. Daly nodded, they'd hall had fun calling him Romeo that night. There was a darling of their, seemingly, youngest marine's eye. He'd made the excuse that it would never happen though, he implied that she was Chinese. That didn't deter all of them from the idea. Most military men did exactly what they wanted, despite the sallow views of society.

"I heard from one of our refugees back at the embassy," Ven explained. He was one of the few who could speak Chinese, military life has a lot of down time, he had to do something to keep from going bored over the years. "I think the Boxers might have her." Daly nodded grimly.

A shout went up from the tunnel, it echoed heavily. Ven and Daly both took cover behind the barricade, their rifles at the ready. They'd heard such shouts before, they always went up just before an attack. One of their leaders firing them up for a death-or-glory charge. More likely to find the former than the later.

Ven and Daly nodded to each other, they both knew the score. They'd fight them off as long as they kept coming. From the look in his eyes, Ven figured Daly would let him go afterwards. Several minutes went by without a sound, just the gaping blackness of the tunnel. Not even a footstep, they must have been creeping very slowly. Ven and Daly both looked calm, the Ven figured he was as tense inside as him. Even knowing how fast his wounds healed, he always got the shakes before a battle, probably always would.

"COME ON YOU SONS OF BITCHES!" Daly roared with fury. "YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER?" Ven smiled at the notion. Moments later several cries of rage came up from the tunnel and dozens of Boxers came charging out into the moonlight.

Ven and Daly opened up on them. Furiously twisting and jerking their bolts and marking their targets, faster than they'd ever before. When their rifles went empty, they drew their revolvers, downing fanatical warriors with every shot. When their pistols clicked dry, their enemies wished they hadn't.

Daly swung his rifle like a baseball bat, he struck a man's head so hard Ven thought it would go flying. He then shifted the rifle in his hands and ran its bayonetted tip through another's throat. Ven dropped both his guns and drew his 16'' bayonet like dagger, almost a short sword. He parried a Boxer's swing with his own sword and rammed the bayonet through his opened mouth. Then spun around to slash two throats in quick succession and then lunged to thrust into another Boxer's gut.

The melee went on for several minutes as dozens more charged from the tunnel. Not wanting to dull his bayonet too much, Ven looted a sword from one of his dead assailants, wielding it back-hand of course. He began to feel the confidence and strength of his keyblade, always did when he grasped a sword. Despite their hate and rage, Ven couldn't help but grudgingly admire the Boxers, for people as skinny and malnourished as they were, on account of the drought, they all had pretty good swings. Their eyes blazed with hatred and the frenzy of hallucinogenic drugs. Admirable or not, there was a sheer darkness in their hearts.

Soon another series of shouts went up and the Boxers began to withdraw. Neither Ven nor Daly wanted to let them go that easy. The both rapidly reloaded their rifles and began firing after them into the tunnel. They emptied their rifles and waited in silence.

After several minutes of dark silence, both agreed the starving peasants were done playing soldier. Daly thanked him for the assist and promised not to tell anyone he saw him. But warned Ven he'd better be back by dawn and if found out he'd better have one hell of a good excuse. Ven nodded, reloaded both his weapons, sheathed his bayonet, and set off silently into the tunnel.

At the opposite end, he pasted several bleeding and exhausted Boxers, all trembled in fear as he passed, none so much as growled as the blue-clad, blonde haired barbarian casually stepped past. Their fighting spirit had abandoned them. Ven kept to the shadows the rest of the way, he didn't want to take his chances with the other fanatics. He wanted to save as much strength as he could for the imperial soldiers, he'd probably have to shoot and hack through half her guards to get to the Empress. But he wasn't going back without Aqua.

After waving through several dark allies and shady streets, Ven found his way to the steps of the palace. Not the first palace he'd ever entered, but the circumstances were similar. He was there to save a girl.

It took the seven imperials atop the stairs a moment to notice him, maybe they didn't believe it. A lone U.S. marine striding casually up the steps of their palace. Like he didn't have a care in the world. They soon began hissing curses and insults, and took aim with their outdated muskets. Ven, wielding rifle and pistol, fired both weapons then knelt and used the rifle stock to fire his revolver in rapid succession; using the stock to instantly pull back the hammer. Seven men lay dead in half as many seconds, none of them had fired a shot.

More guards burst from the entrance. Ven downed them quickly with his rifle, then cast both empty firearms to the steps. Two more guards met Ven at the top only to be downed moments later by his bayonet. He looted a short sword off one of them and charged deeper into the palace.

The hallway ended in a large door, Ven figured this was the great hall, just where the old man said he last saw the girl. Ven kicked in the door and rushed in. He froze at the sight of a girl with blue hair. She stood at the center of the hall between two lit torches. She was facing away from him, wearing a traditional Chinese robe and trembling in terror. But her hair was blue ever been. After more than a century he'd found her!

Ven rushed to her side, calling her name. "Aqua it's you! I knew I'd find you!" The girl only trembled harder. "Aqua? What's wrong? It's me! It's Ven!" He circled around her and froze in shock. It wasn't Aqua! A weeping Chinese girl, her mouth gaged, her hands tied, her hair evidently dyed.

"Welcome, Warrior!" a menacing voice cackled in the shadows. Ven spun around to face the throne and the Empress who sat upon it. More torches flickered to life throughout the chamber. Imperial troops, they'd been lying in wait. It was a trap!

"I knew you would come, Barbarian!" Empress Cixi spat. "I consulted the ancient spirits for a way to crush your kind, but then one of them told me your secret, immortal one!" Ven sensed venom in her voice, perhaps jealousy. "You wander this world looking for your one true love. A maiden with hair the color of the ocean. You've slain so many of my loyal subjects, but now you will kneel to me!" She finished with a wave to two Buddhist priests who emerged behind her.

The priests came forward slowly, chanting something under their breath. They both held crystal shards. Ven's eyes widened as he recognized their words, Master Eraqus taught him about such enchantments. The crystals they held were from the land of Departure! They were for imprisoning people, body and soul! How the hell did they get those? Ven felt the magic taking effect, he had to act quickly.

Ven herald his bayonet at one of the priests. It froze in mid-air and fell to the floor. A magic barrier! The empress smiled smugly. Ven steeled himself, all he had was the short sword. He knew this was his last chance, if she imprisoned him in that crystal, he might not be able to resist her. He shook all thoughts of what she might make him do from his head and charged the priests.

Ven summoned all his strength, reaching deep inside. Then he felt something else, magic. It must have come from the priests' enchantment. This was his best shot. He summoned all the magic he could hold as he swung the sword at the first priest. Something cracked and shattered, and a mighty blow sent the priest flying backwards into the wall. Ven turned the next, who dropped the crystal and trembled in terror. His goodwill gone, even swung blade at the other's head, knocking him back with equal force.

"No! It's not possible!" the empress hissed in her native language. Ven turned to her with a menacing smile and nearly fell over in surprise. The short sword in his hand was his keyblade! He hadn't seen it since crossing blades with Vanitas at the graveyard! The keyblade vanished in a bright flash, leaving Ven with only the looted Chinese short sword. His eyes fell in disappointment.

"Guards! Kill him!" she wailed, running behind her throne. The imperials opened fire, the smoothbore muskets missed him pathetically. For a culture that thinks itself superior, they sure didn't know how to upgrade. Ven dodged their shots and circled the room, making swift work of each imperial.

He ran the last of them through and the room went silent, save for the wailing and blubbering of the empress behind her throne. Ven grinned, she was well known for her elaborate crying fits when things didn't go her way. Personally, he didn't see why she bothered, her sobs were about as convincing as a crocodile's.

Ignoring the royal melodrama, Ven untied and ungagged the poor girl, now lying helpless on the floor. Smart girl, she must have hit the deck when the shooting started. She trembled in fear at his touch. "Don't be afraid," he said in her language. "I won't hurt you."

"My grandpa?" she stammered. Ven smiled, must have been the old man from the embassy. The empress must have put him up to it. Taken his daughter hostage and threatened to kill her if he didn't obey.

"He's safe," Ven said. "Come on, let's get you out of here." Ven scooped the girl up in his arms and carried her out of the palace.

The sun was just beginning to rise as Ven and the girl emerged from the tunnel, to Daly's visible relief. He nodded and winked at his comrade. Ven blushed, he didn't want to tell Daly this was not the girl he loved. He wished with all his heart she really was Aqua. In a few dark alleys along the way Ven had allowed an odd tear to trickle down.

He arrived at the embassy just as the Lieutenant was coming out with the morning patrol. "Ericson where have you been?" he snapped. "We've been looking for you! And who's the girl?" he looked at her in confusion. Blue hair was not normal in this world.

"I heard a noise from the window, sir," Ven explained. "Saw someone moving around in the shadows, I climbed out and found this one. She's looking for her grandpa, figured he might be the old man we found yesterday. The boxers dyed her hair to humiliate her." The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as he looked them both over.

"My orders were 'no one leaves without my say so,'" he snapped. Ven didn't falter. "Make sure she finds her grandpa, then you can go on each patrol today, since you like it so much," he glared.

"Yes, sir," Ven acknowledged. He carried the girl inside the building to the room where last he'd seen the old man. The reunion was tearful, but joyful. The old man embraced the girl with passion, must have thought he'd never see her again. Ven could no longer hold back his tears.

…

Haggard opened the slot in the cell door and peeked inside. Instead of a crotchety looking old man or woman, it was gorgeous teenaged girl. He couldn't quite tell if she was of age or not, which usually meant she wasn't. The only thing more dazzling than her eyes was her equally blue hair. She looked back at Haggard in question. He slid the slot shut.

"Hey Sweets! You ever get tired of pining for Miss July, we've got a cute little nerd in here," Haggard huffed. "Pretty little thing, has her hair dyed like an anime girl. Maybe a year or two south of 18, but you might call it an investment."

"No way, Hags," Sweetwater waved him off. "Never put it in crazy. This is a nut house, remember?"

"Shouldn't eat where you shit either," Haggard replied. "You know Miss July is an officer right? You think she's interested in a lowly private from Bad Company? Out of regs anyway! You need to be thinking about the system."

"Screw the system!" Sweetwater snapped. "Besides I don't plan on staying in anyway!"

"You'll reenlist," Haggard laughed. "You know you love this shit."

"Ugh… Sorry have we met?"

"Come on Sweets! After all we've been through?" Haggard was disappointed. He knew this wasn't Sweetwater's ideal career, but Sweets, Preston, and Sarge were like family to him. The army was really the only place he'd ever fit in. His momma always told him he'd be good at something one day, besides blowing things up. If only she knew that blowing things up would be the very thing that made him a good soldier.

Sweetwater thumbed his radio earpiece. "Alright LT, the psych ward is secure, all prisoner-ugh-patients present and accounted for."

"Good work you two," Walker replied. "Now hold your position until further notice." The radio went silent. Sweetwater shrugged and both of them leaned against the walls.

"Is it just me or is army life always very dangerous or very boring?" Sweetwater asked. Before Haggard could answer the ground shook as multiple explosions rocked the world.

…

Nick Mendoza sighed as he completed another circle of the hospital. What did he get himself into? What was he thinking when he handed all that money and evidence over to the government? He had a chance to be rich, connections in the crime world, he'd done better as a criminal than a cop anyway. Though that was mostly because of his crooked superiors.

His conscience got the better of him. Or maybe it was the memory of his father, and wanting to be as different from him as possible. The government was happy to take the evidence and the money, but couldn't just let him off scot free. He'd proven himself innocent for what got him in prison, but it was still illegal to break out. Plus all the stuff he did to get proof was totally illegal.

He thought he'd gotten off easy when they sentenced him to the U.S. Army. He already knew they'd make him an MP, but had no idea he'd end up in Bad Company. Most of the guys there were worse than he ever was, but first platoon was alright. Thankfully Bad Company was at the front so often he fought more Russians than friendlies.

Nick was about to radio in another successful rove with all conditions normal, when things went SNAFU. The earth shook as multiple rockets exploded at the electric plant down by the docs. The sheer force nocked Nick off his feet. The noise was deafening.

Nick struggled to his feet and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The power was out all over town. The ringing in his ears toned down enough for him to hear Walker demanding a report on the radio.

"It's the power-plant sir!" Nick answered. "It just went up in flames! I think it was missiles sir." A bullet zipped past, grazing his helmet. Nick knelt behind a parked car as the crackle of AKs filled the air. His cover was soon peppered with bullets. Nick was certain he heard shouting in Russian.

"I'm under fire sir!" Nick bellowed into his mouthpiece. He peeked over the car to see Russian troops scrambling forward. He drew his pistol and shot two of them before dodging another hail of bullets. "You're never gonna believe this sir! It's the Russians! They're here! Looks like we've got at least a full company out here. I need support!"

A rocket roared past Nick to send a parked SUV, sheltering Russians, up in flames. Nick turned to see Haggard, Sweetwater, Blackburn, and Montes spraying the Russians. Haggard hunched down beside him.

"Right, don't you worry your pretty little head, Copper," Haggard snickered. "I'll furger this out!" He casually shoved another rocket into his smoking bazooka and stood to fire into a small shop full of Russians.

"God Dammit!" Sarge huffed as he knelt for cover behind a nearby car to Nick's right. "Where the hell did all these Russians come from?"

"Russia!" Marlow grunted beside him as he fired his grenade launcher. Sarge waited for the blast and the screams fade before glaring at Marlow.

"Hardy har har!" Sarge sneered.

"Gentlemen!" Walker roared over the clamor of battle. "Less talking, more shooting!" The lieutenant fired his M-4 at the Russians with short controlled bursts. Most of his shots found a home in some Russian's skull. "FRAG OUT!" he shouted as he lobbed a grenade. Another parked car went up in flames.

"Dang, LT!" Haggard cheered. "You're gonna show us up!"

"Just shut your ass up and shoot some people!" Sarge snapped. Nick fired his M-9 at the enemy, he had no shot but figured I'd help keep their heads down. He wished he'd grabbed an assault rifle when he'd had the chance. But him and the old M-9 went back a long way. And when he'd heard the briefing he honestly thought this was some kind of joke-training-exercise. Somehow, today his world had gone crazier than it had the day he was framed.

Nick knelt to reload when his eye caught movement behind them. Russian troops had gotten around them and were coming around the front entrance of the hospital. "BEHIND US!" Nick shouted.

"RPG!" Haggard bellowed. Nick saw the Russian fire his rocket. It struck the car Blackburn and Montes crouched behind. Both Marines vanished in the inferno.

"FUCK!" Walker's roar was the first sound the break through the concussion of the blast. Nick looked up to see the LT charging the Russians, firing wildly.

"Cover the LT!" Sarge ordered. The remnants of first platoon fired furiously at the flanking enemy. Nick took aim, only to see his target fall to Walker's fury. He paused and stared mystified at Walker's bloodlust. He downed a Russian with every shot, he didn't even pause as he slid over the hood of a car to knock a shocked Russian to the ground. He turned to down the Russian beside him then finished him. One Russian tried to charge him, only to be grappled in a neck-lock. Walker twisted and snapped his neck in an instant before emptying his rifle into a full squad of enemy soldiers. He dropped the spent rifle and went for his side arm. Nick blinked; those delta-boys don't fuck around!

"Watch our front!" Sweetwater called as he sprayed the original attackers with his MG. Nick turned to fire when a grenade dropped beside him. He leapt away, ran, then went flat and hugged the ground for dear life.

Nick could barely remember the blast until he came too. His ears rang, his vision blurred. The fuzzy image of a soldier stood over him. He nearly reached up to grab Marlow's hand, then his vision cleared enough to see down the barrel of the AK. An angry Russian soldier glared down from behind the barrel.

Nick slowly brought his empty hands up to his shoulders in submission. He looked around to find the rest of first platoon kneeling with their hands up nearby. There was just too many of the damn Russians. Had to be at least a full battalion.

Another Russian dragged Lt. Walker over to the rest. His eye was blackened and he looked pretty dazed. Nick figured one of the Russians must have clocked him with a rifle butt. Nick's captor kicked him hard and waved his rifle towards the other prisoners. Nick nodded and half-crawled to his comrades.

"Welcome to the club, copper, LT," Haggard said with a dark grin. "The Russian POW club," he clarified. "We've been here before, haven't we Sarge?"

"Shut up Hags!" Sarge snapped.

"Looks like I won't be able to come to the rescue this time," said Marlow.

"Ugh, as I recall, we saved ourselves last time," Sweetwater corrected. "You showed up just in time to watch us kick ass."

"After I blasted my way through half the Russian Army and cleared our exit," Marlow snapped.

"Not cleared enough," Haggard huffed. "Our way out was crawling with Russians! What did you do tranquilize them?"

"ALL OF YOU SHUT YOUR ASSES UP RIGHT NOW!" Sarge roared, putting an end to their reminiscence.

Walker seemed barely conscious. He knelt with the rest but swung his head in a daze. "Blackburn? Montes? Adams? Lugo?" he moaned.

"Who the hell are Adams and Lugo?" Sweetwater asked no one in particular.

"Probably our two rookies who bought it last month," Haggard answered. "I thought their names were Joe. They usually are."

"Captain Martin Walker!" a calculating, American, voice called out from behind the Russians. "Well, Lieutenant Walker these days. The Ghost of Dubai, the lone survivor," a man in black emerged from the surrounding soldiers.

"Konrad?" Walker asked. The black figure shook his head.

"No, but it's kind of you to think so."

"Oh hell no!" Sarge gasped.

"What in the wide-wide-world of hell?" Haggard almost trembled.

"Holy shit!" Sweetwater hissed.

"No! You're dead!" Marlow spat with venom.

The man in black smirked with recognition. "And the four of you again. Sergeant Redford and Privates Haggard, Sweetwater, and Marlow. I hoped to find you again. I almost was, no thanks to you, but I always was a lucky one."

Nick recognized the red insignia on his uniform. A red triangle with the words ACTA NON VERBA written on the sides. It was the Legionnaire! The wealthiest, most powerful mercenary on the planet. He also had the world's biggest standing army for hire. He wasn't sure how, but somehow the Russians could afford him.

"Don't worry," the Legionnaire went on. "There won't be any punishment, or torture, he said to the four members of Charlie squad. "I was angry with you all at first. But thanks to your interference, I was able to land an even more prosperous deal. What's more your combat abilities and sheer luck have impressed me. I just might have an offer that… Well you know," he finished with a smile.

More Russian troops came from behind him, out of the hospital, dragging more captives with them. The head doctor came first, then an old man, an almost equally old woman, and a gorgeous teenaged girl. Nick figured the girl was one of those anime fan-girls, either that or blue hair is in style these days. He must have been in prison longer than he thought.

"Ah, and more famous names!" the Legionnaire announced the civilians. "As you all know, there's more to this town's people than meets the eye. But I doubt your superiors thought you'd believe who they all are. Allow me to introduce Storybrooke Hospital's head doctor, Dr. Whale; AKA, the nefarious Dr. Victor Frankenstein," the men of Bad Company stared in shocked silence as the doctor and the others were shoved down on their knees in front of them.

The Legionnaire stepped down the row of prisoners to the next one. An old man in a jumpsuit, Nick figured he was a psych ward patient. "And the ruthless King George. The man who kidnapped a child to be his heir, ordered the death of said child's father, mercilessly slaughtered an entire race of giants, and waged a bloody war against literature's most famous lovers, all in the name of some Machiavellian sense of the greater good," the Legionnaire said with a crooked smirk, which the old man returned in kind. "I just might have use for a man like you. But moving on…"

The Legionnaire moved on to the next prisoner, an aging woman who looked up at him in defiance. "Lady Tremaine. Mother of three, only two of which were hers, biologically. A woman so bitterly consumed with jealousy of her second husband's daughter, she did everything in her medieval power to assure the poor girl's misery. Even stooped to attempted murder. I never was one to shed tears for collateral damage on the battlefield, but this level of pettiness is neither practical nor professional," he finished curtly and moved on to the teen.

"And you, young lady," he said softly. "What is your name?" the girl looked up in silent submission. As if she'd lost all hope and simply saw no point in answering. "Is it Aqua, by any chance?" she looked up with wide blue eyes. "Then you are exactly the young lady I'm looking for," the Legionnaire finished. He motioned to the soldier behind her, who dragged her to her feet and led her away to an armored car parked nearby.

"As for you Dr. Frankenstein," he turned to the good doctor. "I've no immediate use for you, but, like you said, 'a mind is a terrible thing to waste,'" another soldier dragged Frankenstein to the same armored car. "The two of you, I'm afraid, have worn out your welcome," he waved the guards behind them aside, drew his pistol and shot them both in the head.

Nick swallowed hard. From what he'd heard, both were scum of the earth. Assuming he could believe what he'd heard about them. But this was the same cold cruelty that landed him in prison for another man's crimes.

"What-What are you going to do with the girl?" Walker demanded, still dazed.

"Nothing," he answered. "She's an asset to my mission, and a person of interest to one of my employees. As long as she cooperates she has nothing to fear from me. Nor do any of you. All of you have proven yourselves fine soldiers. Even you, Officer-ugh-Private Nick Mendoza. You may either be cannon fodder for the United States and their delusions of freedom, or you can join my ranks, and fight for a more practical purpose."

First platoon stood in silence for a moment. "Well, LT, I think he may have a point there," Sarge said. "That was in fact a stirring, well-thought-out, not to mention clever and timely, I might add, proposition. Haggard, would care to deliver our collective response?" he turned to the Texan, who casually cleared his throat.

"How about you kiss my hair, hillbilly, redneck, bible thumping ass? You god damn, vodka sucking, borsht licking, fucking commie pinkos!" he finished shouting. The boys of Bad Company cheered.

"Has a way with words doesn't he?" Walker smirked. The first Nick hand ever seen him smile. Nick tried hard not to sigh. He would have tried to bargain with them and see if they couldn't stall for time to escape, but Haggard's speech had impressed even him.

The Legionnaire looked down on them expressionless. "Have it your way," he turned and strode toward the armored car. Somehow, Nick had always had a feeling it was going to end like this. The Russian firing squad lined up and leveled their rifles at them.

"Gentlemen, it's been an honor serving with all of you," Walker said. "Welcome to Dubai." Before Nick could question the LT's last words gunshots erupted, all of Bad Company slumped to the ground.

Nick blinked as he realized he wasn't in pain, or dead. He looked up to see the others were also alive and gazing around in confusion. Their firing squad was lying in a bloodied heap on the ground. Nick spotted a figure in black spraying the Russians with an Uzi. It wasn't the Legionnaire. He was shorter, with spiky blonde hair, he looked like a teenager. The kid drew a pistol when the Uzi went dry and fired furiously at the retreating Russians.

"What the hell are you ladies waiting for? A formal invitation?" Sarge shouted. "Let's get back in the damned war!" 


	6. Chapter 6

Wade tensed the instant the explosions shook the earth. The lights in the diner went out. He ignored the shocked cries of the civilians and ran for the nearest window. A blazing cloud went billowed into the sky in the direction of the electric plant. The lights flickered back on as the back-up power kicked in.

"REPORT!" Cain bellowed into his radio. "Major Raynes, is the device secured? What the hell was that?" Cain had shot from his seat and gripped his radio like it would toss him from a cliff.

"Missiles, sir!" Raynes answered. "They came from the bay, just took out the plant. The town's gone dark, back-up gen just kicked in here at town hall though. The package is operational." Several more explosions shook the earth and voice crackled over the radio reporting missile strikes on hum-vees and troop trucks throughout the town.

An attack chopper! It had to be. "Command this is Bravo-1!" Lt. Walker chimed in. "We're under attack by an unknown number of hostile foot-mobiles. Were we expecting company?" Walker finished hissing.

"Hold that hospital, lieutenant!" Cain snapped. "It is imperative that the persons of interest in that psyche ward do not hit the street!"

Regina, the Sherriff and the Charmings shot to their feet. They all demanded to know what was going on. Cain turned to them with an apprehensive glare. He turned to the dark one and approached him, drawing a magnum revolver from his pocket. He thumbed back the hammer and pressed the barrel against the old man's head.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing!" Mr. Stiltskin replied trembling. His wife threw her arms around him, weeping. He gently pushed her away.

"I'm not going to ask again, Dark One!"

"Please! I swear to you don't know what this is!"

"Sir!" Jin snapped. "How could he possibly be behind this? He can't use his magic!"

The soft hum of a helicopter caught Wade's ear. He turned back to the window to see a large, black, chopper rise from the ground, as if it had landed nearby briefly before rising to strike like a cobra. Wade's eyes widened. "EVERYBODY DOWN!" he shouted.

The walls and windows shattered and splintered as high caliber bullets tore through the diner. The mangled bodies of FEAR troops littered the floor. The civilians had all gone flat on the ground. The barrage stopped as abruptly as it began.

"CONTACT!" Jin yelled as she raised her pistol and fired at the rear entrance of the building. Wade and the surviving FEAR troops readied themselves. A soldier in black fell to the floor inside the back exit. Several voices called from outside, they were in English, but the accents sounded European; some French, others German.

"Surround them! Spare the civilians if you can!" the voice shouted. Wade took a closer look at the dead soldier. Black uniform, red triangle, ACTA NON VERBA; the Legionnaire! Every soldier in the U.S. Army knew about these guys and that they were bad news. Wade figured he only had a few seconds to think of something. His reflexes gave him a slight edge, but with overwhelming numbers it would be a problem, he caught himself almost wishing his brother's ghost was still around.

"Sergeant Wade!" Cain called, struggling to his feet. "Men! Stand your ground! Major Raynes, we are under attack here at the diner, send help fast! This is a priority one," something flew through the window and clanked to the floor, cutting him off. "NO!"

Blinding light and deafening noise brought Wade to his knees. A flashbang. He cursed that heightened reflexes didn't mean heightened capacity for audial and optical trauma. He palmed blindly for his rifle until the unmistakable impact of a steel toed boot sent him sprawling sideways.

Wade's world phased in and out of darkness. Echoed voices called out with French and German accents. He caught brief glimpses of soldiers in black. He almost thought they were replicas. Then his vision cleared. Two mercenaries stood over him, their rifles trained on his head. The baby was crying furiously, his mother desperately trying to comfort him.

"Congratulations, Agent Cain," a thick Russian accent said. Wade saw a Russian Spetsnaz officer looming over Cain. The only Russian soldier in sight. The Legionnaire had to cost Russia an arm and a leg, but Wade figured it was worth it. "This victory is as much yours as it is Russia's. In fact I should thank you, none of this would be possible without your little device. Russia has been experimenting with such dark arts since before the iron curtain went up but could never figure out how to neutralize magic! It seems capitalism really does have the edge in industry – but of course, don't tell my superiors I said that."

Wade huffed a brief laugh. Russia may have all manner of fast food chains these days, but pandering to the international service industry was as far as their capitalism went. Russia never changed, not in its heart; darkened by a century of mass graves and propaganda.

The Russian officer knelt beside Cain and reached into the agent's coat pocket. He stood back up with the Dark One's dagger in hand before turning to Rumpelstiltskin, clutching his wife and child on the floor. "The fabled Rumpelstiltskin! It seems we are in the presence of a legend!" he announced, to the audible amusement of his mercenaries. "And the lovely princess Bell. Now all we need is that obnoxious British clock and that perverted French candlestick!" more chuckles went up.

"What do you want?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, his voice barely a whimper.

"The most powerful warlock who's ever lived," he answered. "That's you. And I'm afraid that means you and the child too, princess."

The front door swung open and another soldier entered. Wade could tell he was Russian by the uniform and iconic flag stitched to his shoulder. He stood tall, perhaps a few inches taller than Wade. He also wore a black helmet with a shiny glass visor that obscured his face. Somehow, he reminded Wade of Cain's boy, Ven.

The officer motioned to Rumpelstiltskin and the Mrs. "Sergeant Zemlya, escort them to the chopper," he casually ordered his faceless comrade. "Gently, though. That is of course as long as they cooperate." Sergeant Zemlya nodded. He unslung his AK-47 but didn't point it at his captives as he ushered them out of the diner.

Wade blinked as he realized it really was an older AK-47 model, not a newer AK-74u. He was also surprised to see a much older PPSH smg slung around the soldiers other shoulder and a century old Nagant Revolver in his holster. No school like the old school!

A well-dressed gentleman entered the front door just after the Stiltskins and the Russian exited. He casually removed his top hat and approached the Russian officer sternly. Wade figured the gentleman would be right at home in some steam-punk convention. His suit was taken straight from Victorian England. Bow tie, suit with vest, gloves, and thick but well-trimmed beard. "Major Mosin, you must send some of your men to assist with the taking of town hall, the FEAR operatives there are dug in, they know the importance of the that device," the gentleman said.

Mosin smiled and obligingly gave the order over the radio. A lucky break, a reduced number of hostiles were holding Wade. He'd have to make his move soon. "I'll see to this personally," Mosin said. "Sergeant, keep an eye on the prisoners, but don't kill any of them, yet. Once the device is secured we will see if Legionnaire or Mr. Dark have any use for them." Mosin was off with a respectful nod to the gentleman, who Wade could only speculate was Mr. Dark. A fitting name, something felt off about him.

Wade glanced at Jin, and saw wonder and growing terror on her face. She was sensitive to spiritual and psychic power, he could tell she noticed something about the gentleman now standing in command of the diner.

"It's fancy finally meeting you all in person," Mr. Dark said with a friendly but menacing smile. "I know none of you know me but I know you all so well." He ventured toward Wade, which sent a chill down his spine, though Wade would never admit it. "I miss having your brother Paxton in this world too, Mr. Wade. As for your dear little sister, one day she might be of interest to me, but for now it's best to let an investment grow."

Wade's blood froze. How in the hell? "Yes indeed," Dark said, as if he could read his mind.

"Who are you?" Regina, the mayor, demanded. He turned to her with his shark smile.

"Someone who knows all there is to know about you. We are the hungry ones, your heart aches and desires call to us like wolves, and we do feed, and feed well," he said as he approached her. "We can smell a teenaged girl grieving for her lost love and seething for revenge against the silly girl who betrayed a secret like a shark smells a drop of blood in the ocean." He said with a nod to a short haired brunette nearby. Both women gaped in shocked silence.

"Just like we can sense an orphan girl yearning for a family. And a young adopted boy aching to find his birth mother," Dark turned to smile at the blonde town sheriff, holding her teenaged boy. "And a pirate hungry for vengeance against the world that wronged him so many times," now the one armed deputy beside the blonde stared up in terror.

"And then, of course, there's the soldier desperate to find a means to fight a weapon that cannot be beaten," now Dark turned to Cain. "Oh how it hurts you to find magic here! You ran to this world to escape magic, only for magic to invade in force. All those years of training, fighting, protecting your adoptive land from all threats foreign and domestic. Yet the most highly trained warfighters of the most powerful nation on this planet are no more a threat to a single warlock, than this world's most highly trained janitor!" he finished with a smirk. Cain was visibly trembling but stared up in defiance.

"Who-Who are you?" Emma, the sheriff, asked. Dark turned to her smiling.

"Oh yes, please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and tastes. I've been around for a long, long time and stole many men's souls and faiths," Mr. Dark said elegantly, Wade recognized the words immediately and knew where this was going. He could tell Emma knew too as her eyes widened. "I was there when another savior, like you, had his moment of doubt and pain. I made sure his captor washed his hands and sealed his fate. I went St. Petersburg when the time had come for change. I killed Nicholas and his loyalists, poor little Anastasia screamed in vain. I rode a tank into France when the blitzkrieg raged and the corpses stank." He went on approaching the trembling blonde. Her teenaged boy, Henry, clutched her tighter.

"Is this bad poetry or is it supposed to mean something?" the one-armed man beside Emma asked with a glare. He had placed a protective arm over the sheriff and her son. Wade felt himself and most of the room staring at the man with the hook in disbelief. Even Dark seemed taken aback.

"A kind of poetry perhaps," Dark answered. "But mostly just a homage to a classic, albeit paraphrased. But what it means is, Killian Jones," he paused to lean down closer to Killian's face. "That you should show some courtesy, some sympathy, and some taste. For if you insist on acting like a pirate, a pirate you shall be, Captain Hook," Killian's face betrayed nervousness. "But then, no pirate costume is complete without an eye patch," Dark finished as he swiftly grasped Killian's face, shoving his thumb into the man's left eye.

A sizzling sound and a cry of agony went up with the scent of smoke. Killian writhed in agony in Mr. Dark's grip. His wife screamed in objection but was too afraid to do more. The mercenary standing over Wade shoved his rifle barrel closer to his face. Wade could barely resist the urge to attack the sadistic bastard.

Moments later Dark stood up and blew smoke from his thumb, which seemed to be glowing with the blaze of a blast furnace. Emma and Henry were at Killian's side in an instant, the man clutched his eye in pain. "Next time, Killian, I suggest you remember your politesse, or else I'll lay more than your eye to waste." Dark said, unfazed by any of the excitement. The entire room, even the mercenaries, trembled in terror.

"Oh and to answer your question," he turned back to Emma. "Let me just say, I'm pleased to meet you all. I hope you guessed my name!" he finished with a broad smile and wink.

"Oh God!" Cain gasped.

"Wrong!" Dark called out casually as he made his way to the door. "But what must be puzzling you all, is the nature of my game," he paused at the door. "As well it should," he said as the door shut behind him.

…

Major Raynes hit the floor as more gunfire peppered his position in the clock tower. Russians and Legionnaire troops had been laying siege for several minutes, the Legionnaire bunch came from the direction of Granny's Diner, which explained why he couldn't raise Cain. He knew it was balls to the wall on this one.

The unmistakable rumble of an armored car approached the building. Moments later .50 bullets peppered the tower. Raynes clung to his cover as he felt it grow weaker by the second. After a few moments of sustained fire the .50 went silent, Raynes figured the idiot gunner got carried away and overheated it.

"Major!" Captain Burke called over the radio. "We're starting to run low on ammo down here. Any bright ideas, sir?"

"Yeah, here's an idea! Keep shooting!" Raynes barked. It was the best he could do. He hated to let the Captain down though, he'd been just a sergeant when they started off in the Fairport incident. But he'd pulled through overwhelming odds against Armacham and God knows what else. It didn't take much convincing for command to give him a battlefield commissioning. A rarity these days.

Raynes felt an explosion from the rear of the building and knew the enemy had breached the rear defenses. No time for the stairs. He chucked two more grenades down at his attackers and fast roped down to the ground level. He reached the bottom just in time to unload his smg into a squad of Russians charging the front door. Then turned to see Captain Burke emptying dual pistols into a squad of Legionnaires charging through a hole in the rear wall. Burke's reflexes were on par with Sergeant Wade from first squad.

Most of the rest of first platoon was down. Raynes had less than half a dozen men left to defend the device. Then it hit him, the device is what they were after! Cain had told him what a breakthrough the device was. Nothing had ever been developed that could neutralize magic before. He also remembered the Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin. Without the device he'd be free to cause carnage, but so would that sheriff, 'the savior.' Raynes had read all the files on the persons of interest. And the Russians and Legionnaires were a threat to the town and its people too. Cain wouldn't like this, if he were still alive, but Raynes knew what had to be done as he turned to the small metallic pyramid on the oak table in the middle of the hall.

Glass shattered and gunfire erupted as Russian troops crashed through the windows on both sides of the building. They must have gotten on the roof. The remaining FEAR troops fired furiously. Raynes swung up his Spaz-12, downing two Russians as he ran for the device. He could hear his men screaming as they were caught in the cross fire and riddled with bullets. Burke and his dual pistols fired rapidly with vengeance. Raynes saw Russians falling from the corner of his eye, Burke would take as many down with him as possible.

Raynes pressed the barrel of his shotgun against the device and fired. The metal pyramid shattered with a burst of electrical flux. A feeling swept over the building and out into the town, like a void was being filled. Magic had returned. Raynes turned and screamed with rage as Burke was peppered with the bullets of dozens of enemy soldiers. The captain slumped to his knees, still squeezing the triggers of his empty pistols, then fell lifelessly on his face.

Raynes brought up his spaz with a roar of fury. He got one shot off before a hail of bullets riddled his body. His last thoughts were of hope, and a wish for vengeance. "Get em good for us Wade, V! Get em good!"

…

Marlow downed another Russian, then dodged behind another parked car; one that miraculously hadn't caught fire and exploded. A controlled burst from a nearby LMG told Marlow that Sweetwater had his back. Then all went silent.

Dozens of dead Russians littered the parking lot and the streets. Gunfire not too far away, near the town center, assured Marlow it wasn't time to relax just yet. He scanned the area to find Sarge, Sweetwater, Haggard, Mendoza, and Walker all alive and well.

"Alright, we good?" Walker asked. Everyone sounded off, all good. Walker paused in wonder, Marlow followed his gaze to the blonde haired soldier in black. He'd stopped shooting once his pistol ran empty and drew his dagger. He'd been slicing and dicing the Russians like veggies on a cutting board while they'd been blasting away trying to cover him. Now he stood panting for breath, the bloodlust of battle still blazing in his eyes. Marlow was so glad to be on his side.

Walker took charge. "Report, soldier! Name and rank!" The young man, probably younger than Marlow, took a deep breathe.

"Ventus!" he rasped. "Sergeant! I answer to Agent Cain, and him alone. Don't like it? Bring it up with him," he snapped.

"Watch that tone, Sergeant!" Walker snapped gently. "You're addressing an officer." Ventus seemed to ignore him, and turned to the hospital, now pocked with bullet holes and broken windows.

"Aqua!" he grunted, seeming to calm down. "I'm coming…" he murmured with an exhausted step toward the building.

"Aqua? That was the anime gal wasn't it?" Haggard asked. Ventus froze then turned sharply.

"You saw her?" his face had changed from exhausted bloodlust to child-like concern. "Where is she?"

"The Legionnaire took her," Walker answered. "Drove off in an armored car a just when you arrived. Headed for the other side of town."

"No!" Ventus growled. "Why? What does he want with her?" he demanded of no one in particular.

"Whatever it is, it can't be anything good," Sarge broke in. "FEAR and our company man are at objective ARNOLDS at the other end of town, and things have gone awful quiet in the direction of town hall," Sarge said turning to Walker. "Already tried raising the FEAR teams and Command, either they're wiped out or taken prisoner. Could also be that the Russians are jamming our radios."

Ventus had already turned back the direction he'd come and was staring longingly. Something told Marlow this kid had a personal stake in this. He looked about as old as the girl, maybe a year younger.

Walker cursed as his own attempt to make radio contact didn't pan out. "Alright then, everyone gear up, we're Oscar Mike in sixty seconds. First to town hall, then objective ARNOLDS." Marlow and the rest of Bad Company checked their weapons and rummaged for ammo. Ventus still seemed frozen in despair. He was still breathing heavy, Marlow wasn't sure if he was trembling in exhaustion or rage.

"As for you, Sergeant," Walker took another step toward Ventus. "Until we reestablish contact with your company man, you can consider yourself under my command. You know regs."

Ventus nodded and seemed to compose himself again. "I'm not doing this for you," he said sternly.

"Fine by me," replied Walker. "As long as you do it. Welcome to Bad Company, Sergeant Ventus."

"Yeah, welcome to the suck," Sweetwater chimed in. "Highest mortality rate in the Army."

"Glad to have you there, Ventus," Haggard smiled. "Fancy work with that knife by the way!"

"Cut the chatter everyone, let's move out!" Walker snapped. Bad Company made their way down the main road, keeping a sharp eye out for Russian stragglers. Ventus easily kept up with the others and kept mostly silent. Soon they reached the blown out, crumbling remains of town hall.

Like the hospital it was riddled with bullets and barely standing. The clock tower looked like it would fall any moment. Dozens of Russians lay dead, inside about two dozen FEAR soldiers lay dead, including the FEAR field commander, Major Raynes, who had been there with Bad Company at the briefing.

"Aw dammit!" Haggard gasped at the carnage inside the building.

"You could say that again," Sweetwater said, Haggard repeated himself. Marlow almost cursed too. FEAR troops were tough SOBs. Everyone in the Army knew they were recruited from Delta Force. Most of the army thought FEAR's mission was either a joke, or a cover-up for some shady activity. But they all knew Delta was not to be trifled with, and what Marlow had seen of Walker in combat was more than enough to convince him.

Yet here was at least half of the FEAR unit in the town. Slaughtered to the last man, they took out more than their share of Russians though. And there on the central table was the shattered remains of the something small and metallic. The device that neutralized the towns "magic"!

They'd all seen it in the briefing and were told what it did. Though none of them believed it until after activation. "Shit!" Ventus hissed.

"Language!" Marlow laughed, surprised to hear him finally speak.

"You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?" asked Sweetwater.

"No judgements here, I'm proud of you Ven!" said Haggard.

Ventus roared with fury and brought his fist down hard on the table, which split in half as a blinding light flashed. Marlow and the others jolted back in surprise. It couldn't have been a flash-bang! Marlow blinked in amazement at the weapon that had suddenly appeared in Ven's hand.

Ven himself seemed shocked. His hand trembled and the bizarre blade fell to the ground with a loud clang. It was like a giant key. Marlow blinked several times, was he imagining this? A stammering gasp from Sweetwater assured him he wasn't.

"What in the wide, wide world of sports?!" Haggard exclaimed.

"Que demonos!" Mendoza gasped, the first Marlow had ever heard the Cuban-American utter in Spanish. Ven gingerly bent down and picked up the large key. His eyes were filled with wonder, recognition, and longing. He looked like he would burst into tears at any second. But soon the sadness vanished as he swung the blade in his hand and gripped it back-handed. He took a combat stance and smiled.

"Lieutenant," Ven finally said to Walker. Bad Company's CO blinked, shook his head, and looked back at the keyblade wielder. "Follow behind me with your men, I'll lead the way and provide cover. We have friendlies and civilians to save."

Walker looked back in defiance and seemed like he was about to object, when Ven punched himself in the left shoulder. With another brilliant flash, Ven was clade in a suit of silver armor. It looked both medieval and technologically advanced at the same time. His helmet was smooth at front, with two horn-like ears coming up the sides.

"My god, kid!" Haggard gasped in awe. "You're a magic batman!"

"Haggard, you ain't seen nothing yet!" Ven said through his helmet, which didn't seem to impede his voice at all. "Alright, Bad Company, let's take back this town!"

…

Emma held her husband close, trying to sooth him as best she could. She was too afraid to be angry with Dark. For now she was just glad he was gone. The Russian officer had returned just a moment ago. He'd said the last of the FEAR unit in town had been wiped out. The soldier on the floor glared and tried to grapple the rifle away from the Russian guarding him, only to be kicked in the stomach, then bludgeoned in the face with the rifle butt. He'd been laying on his back in submission ever since.

Before Emma or Regina could react, two Russians approached and strapped familiar black patches on their arms. Somehow the Russians had duplicated the magic suppression patches invented by Pan. Emma figured this meant the device that neutralized magic was down, not that it made much of a difference. She knew a little Russian from her days on the streets, and could tell from Major Mosin's conversation with his subordinates that their future was looking bleak.

At best they'd all be ushered aboard helicopters and taken away to Russian to be used as guinea pigs. At worst they'd end up like so many other unarmed civilians who got on the wrong side of Spetsnaz troops. Emma rolled her eyes at the thought. A remnant from the Cold War was about to succeed where the most infamous and powerful villains of folklore had failed!

"Dark took off with the Legionnaire and the prisoners, a few minutes ago," Mosin explained to his men, Russians and Mercs. "We should receive verification of which prisoners to prioritize soon. Do away with the others. More choppers are coming for evac. The scorched-earth protocol is active." Emma didn't like the sound of that last part, but she had more urgent concerns.

She looked from Killian to Henry, to Regina, to her parents, and back. Her mother and father were holding each other close, both trembled. All the magic, all the monsters, all the schemes, and somehow this was more helpless, and hopeless, than they'd ever been.

Emma was about to say her goodbyes when the faint strumming of guitar strings went up. Soon came the singing and what sounded like an old country music band. The voice was singing a very old song, something about a cantina south of the border and someone dancing with another man's girlfriend. It must have been the loudspeaker system from town hall. After all the shooting and explosions it was amazing that anything still worked!

Major Mosin cursed in confusion. "Where is that music coming from? Someone turn that American trash off!" Emma took it personal. Say what you want about America, but their music was awesome!"

"CONTACT!" the cry went up in Russian, French, and German. The soldiers all ran for the front entrance and the windows near the front. Moments later the shooting started. Emma blinked, maybe all hope wasn't lost yet. She shot a glance to the FEAR soldier on the ground, just in time to see the bearded man slide a knife across the floor to her. As she caught it, she recognized it as the dagger that use to be strapped to the boot of the mercenary who'd knocked him down a moment ago! He'd snatched it off when the Merc kicked him! Hope was far from lost.

…

Lt. Martin Walker had doubted his own sanity all along. He still remembered Dubai and still awoke from terrible nightmares. The occasional visitations by Adams, Lugo, and Konrad, were a constant scourge on his psyche. He did his best to ignore them, they were all in his head and he knew it. They only showed up when the chips were really down, like back at the hospital. They'd mocked him, taunted him, he'd be joining them soon. Or so they said till Ventus showed up.

Walker and the rest of Bad Company followed the man in the medieval batman costume up the road. The ghosts of his past were nowhere to be seen, but that did little to assure Walker he wasn't on a break. First a giant, sword-sized, key appeared in Ven's hand, then his armor appeared out of nowhere! Walker had to remind himself about the briefing, magic was real and this town was flowing with it. But even after all he'd seen in the past few hours, Walker had trouble accepting it. Part of him wondered if he was imagining this whole thing. Was he really in a padded cell in some Army hospital psyche-ward, shitting his pants and squirming in a strait jacket?

Walker shook all doubts from his mind as the music Haggard had chosen back at town hall started on the loud speaker. The enemy was in sight and the battle was about to begin. Maybe he was crazy, maybe he always would be, but that was fine. He didn't need to be sane in order to win a war, he'd proven that back at Dubai. Maybe that was the only way to win in a world of witches and wizards. Might be their best chance.

The enemy seemed to snap out of their daze of disbelief as the seven men walked towards them nice and slow, like they hadn't a worry in the world. Walker hoped Ventus could pull this trick off.

From what he'd told them back at the hall, he'd been out of practice with his keyblade for two centuries. Haggard and Sweetwater had both commented on the similarities to the Highlander movies, then went on an idiot tangent to argue over the reasons behind the character's immortality. Walker had been grateful to Redford for promptly shutting them up. It was time to see if Ventus could measure up to Hollywood.

The Russians and Mercs scrambled, their weapons at the ready. The music began to pick up as the course of the song began. Ventus thrust his blade forward, like a shield. The enemy opened fire, only for their bullets to freeze in mid-air and fall to the pavement. It was working! The enemy kept firing in a terrified frenzy.

Ventus looked back over his shoulder and nodded as he continued pressing forward. "LIGHT EM UP!" Walker roared. Bad Company unleashed a storm of bullets, which passed easily through Ven's magical shield and into the enemy. Not a single enemy bullet got through his shield from the front, even grenades bounced back and blew up in the invader's faces. Walker grinned with menace, the spartan phalanx didn't have shit on them!

Haggard whooped and cheered as his rocket passed through the shield to send an armored car up in flames. "Eat it Russians! And you too, Mercs!" Sweetwater shouted as he sprayed the enemy with his LMG. Walker chuckled that Sweets came close to sounding intimidating. Marlow, Mendoza, and Walker all took careful, calculated shots. Walker had been most impressed with Marlow, the man could probably make the cut for Delta, if he ever got out of Bad Company. Sarge fired with fury, and sent several Russians flying with a grenade.

"NO MORE NADES!" Walker bellowed as they approached the diner. There were civilians inside, plus whatever remained of FEAR. Shouting and gunshots came from inside the diner. Either the FEAR boys were back in the action, or Walker was about to face another slaughter he'd failed to prevent.

Walker followed directly behind Ven into the diner. They paused in silence at the sight before them. Agent Cain, and two other FEAR soldiers had downed all the remaining Russians, about five Mercs had surrendered and were now kneeling on the floor. A blonde haired woman, Walker recognized from the briefing as the town's sheriff, had the Russian commander backed against the bar, holding a knife to his throat.

"I believe this is what we call 'the nick of time', Walker!" Cain greeted him with a smile. "Is that you Ven?" he asked armored knight with the magic sword. Ven relaxed his combat stance and removed his helmet. Cain, unfazed by his time as a captive, smiled wider and clapped his hands. "I had a feeling the magic of this place might help you get your sword back. Didn't think it would turn you into Batman though!"

Haggard howled a loud cheer as he stepped up to throw his arm across Ven's shoulders. "That's right, the Dark Highlander returns!" he said.

"Hells yeah!" Sweetwater came up Ven's other side. "The 'Caped Crusader' ain't got shit on him!"

"Well whatever the hell he is," Sarge broke in. "He's something!"

Ven kept quiet in the face of all the praising, Walker was certain he saw him blushing as he stepped forward to take charge. "Is this the last of them?" Walker asked.

"Yes," Cain answered. Some of the civilians had gotten up and were picking up the enemy's dropped weapons. Two of them Walker recognized as the sheriff's deputies from the briefing. One with a badly burned eye was the sheriff's husband, the other was supposed to be her father. Walker figured it was magic that made him look so young. A brunette with short hair picked up one of the AKs on the ground and pointed it at the surrendered Mercs.

The sheriff, Emma, pressed the tip of her knife against the Russian officer's throat. "What is the 'Scorched Earth' protocol?" she demanded. The Russian only smiled.

"Come now, Mrs. Jones," he said. "You are a hero, remember? You have rules about killing people."

"Don't bother with him," Cain broke in. "He's Spetsnaz, they're zeal and dedication borders on fanaticism!" the Russian smiled and thanked Cain, taking it as a compliment.

"Tell me or I swear-" Emma began, only to be cut off by the Russian's throaty laugh.

"What are you going to do, Princess?" he asked. "Are you going to-" the Russian was cut off by a 9mm gunshot. His brains painted the glass bottles on the shelves behind him red. Emma lurched away and stared in horror at Walker's smoking pistol.

"She won't, but I just did," Walker growled. He ignored the shocked faces and glares of judgement from the civilians.

"Damn!" Sweetwater remarked. "When you fight Bad Company, you really fight Bad Company!" Walker ignored him and turned to surrendered Mercs, now trembling in terror.

"Damn you!" a woman yelled. Another brunette stood from the huddled civilians, the town's mayor. "I could have gotten the information out of him easily!"

"Leave this to the Lieutenant, Your Majesty," Cain said. "Trust me, this man knows what he's doing."

She glared at him in defiance. "Trust you! It's because of you we couldn't fight back against them! You're little machine is offline now, Agent Cain! Why don't you just consider the fact that I haven't incinerated you as a kind of, peace offering!" she spat. "And it's rich of you to suspect me, working with a man like him!" she viciously jerked her head at Walker. "Is this the kind of questioning you had in mind for me?"

"I WILL NOT BE LECTURED BY YOU!" Walker roared like a baited bear. The whole room shook with the impact of his voice. "They told us all about you in the briefing, Ms. Mills," he stepped toward the mayor. "Terrorizing your people, slaughtering villages, all to murder your own step daughter, because your mother knew how to BULLSHIT A TEN-YEAR-OLD! Not that I'm one to talk, but this is not about heroes and villains right now, this is WAR! You may be an expert on making wars, I am an expert in FIGHTING THEM! You want answers, you'll get them," he finished, almost whispering. Regina glared back at him but said nothing. Walker turned his attention, and his death-glare to the prisoners.

"I would just like to say, I am perfectly willing to talk," came a timid French voice. All eyes turned to one of the mercenaries, raising his hand like a school boy. "And I take full responsibility for the kicking. I'm sorry," he whimpered up at the black-haired, bearded FEAR soldier, who obliged him with a swift kick to the gut.

Walker approached the Merc as he nursed his bruised stomach. "What is the 'Scorched Earth' protocol?" he repeated Emma's question.

"We must all leave now!" the Frenchman whined. "The Russians have a weapon that destabilizes magically summoned matter. They planned to drop it on the town once we evacuated, but now he will…" a mighty impact cut the Merc off. Something seemed to rattle the town to its bedrock foundation. "Oh God! It is too late, we are all dead men!" he gasped. Before Walker could answer, the floor seemed to give way beneath him. Then the floor came back up in a volcanic burst. Walker was flung into the air and blacked out as he crashed back to the earth.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's notes: Sorry for the delay on this one, I'll do my best to get back on the horse here. I hope that you all signed on for some more of my action blend of fantasy and history, because you're about to get it, especially in the second half. Enjoy and please review.

Aqua trembled nervously as the helicopter gained altitude. She looked out the window in terror at the carnage in the wake of the large round ball which fell from the chopper moments ago. The fallen object struck the ground near the center of town and sent a shockwave through the earth, like ripples in a pond. The ground was over turned and splashed like water.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the Legionnaire asked mildly. Aqua, the married couple with the baby, and the doctor all turned to him in disgusted disbelief. Beautiful was not the words Aqua would use to describe what she saw. "The entire town was summoned into existence by magic, the device we dropped destabilizes summoned material, causing it to break down and obliterate. Complete particle reversal. Like a broom to a footprint. Once the ground has settled, which may take a while, it will be as if the town never existed. Even if the civilians do make it out, they'll have nowhere to go and no means by which to interfere."

"YOU MONSTER!" the old man's wife screamed, much to her baby's dislike.

"Means to an end, Princess," the Legionnaire replied coolly. "Like your husband has tried to tell you for a long time," she looked back at him in rage, but said no more. Her husband put a supporting arm around her. "Next stop, Moscow," the Legionnaire went on. "The Kremlin won't like losing a fine Spetsnaz unit, but they understand the bigger picture," he finished with a curt nod. He and the well-dressed man, who gave Aqua the creeps, left the passenger compartment and headed toward the cockpit of the chopper. Leaving only the lone, helmeted soldier to guard them.

Aqua seethed with anger, but couldn't summon the strength to fight. Her anger turned to despair and defeat. Only a red light bulb illuminated the compartment. The color of blood did little to calm her down. She took little comfort in the light, but was grateful it wasn't dark. She feared the darkness so much.

The Russian soldier stood and stepped up in front of her. She looked up at him in question. He removed his helmet and looked down on her with firm, but gentle brown eyes. His black hair seemed to stand up in the middle, she figured he had helmet hair. But there was something familiar about him, his presence was soothing.

"Do you remember me?" he asked her. She shook her head. "My name is Sergeant Zemlya. It's the Russian for Earth," he explained. He had an accent like the other Russians she'd seen since they took her, but his voice seemed to fluctuate, like it wasn't the language he was raised with. "This world has another word for it, it begins with T," he said and waited in patient silence. A light seemed to come on in Aqua's mind. Her eyes widened.

"TERRA!" she gasped in recognition. The man smiled and nodded. Aqua felt an urge to leap up and embrace him. She still couldn't remember everything, but she knew he was someone she'd gone into the darkness to find. But then her mind remembered someone else. Another boy, her heart ached more to embrace him than Terra. What was his name?

"Ventus?" she shrieked as the name returned. "Where's Ven? Did you find him?" she asked urgently. Terra's face twisted in a frown before he turned away and strode back to his seat.

"Forget him!" Terra snapped. "He can't help you, can't help anyone. He's too weak. He won't do what's necessary."

Aqua blinked in shock at Terra's words. "But Terra, he's like a brother to you!"

"I said forget him!" he snapped again, almost shouting. Aqua recoiled in fear, she sensed darkness in him. That which frightened her the most. "Just get some rest, we've got a long flight," he finished as he sat back and closed his eyes.

…

Ventus awoke amid cries of pain and terror. The night sky above him was choked with dust and smoke. He struggled to his feet to see the town in utter ruins. He could no longer tell if he was inside the diner or not. Shattered remains of brick buildings and houses were strewn everywhere.

"Bad Company! Report!" Sergeant Redford's voice bellowed. A string of grunts and groans replied. "Who's still alive? Sound off!"

"I am!" Marlow's voice called out. Ven saw the soldier struggling to his feet nearby.

"I'm okay!" Sweetwater whined as his head emerged from rubble to Ven's left. "Where's Haggard?!" he gasped. HAGGARD! HAGS!" Sweets called in desperation. He gasped in surprise as an unseen force knocked him backwards.

"Will you quite your damn whining and get off me!" Haggard huffed as he emerged from the same rubble.

"Hags! I thought you were a goner!" Sweetwater stammered in relief.

"Well cancel the damn funeral!"

"Shut up!" Sarge growled. "WALKER! MENDOZA!" he shouted.

"Mendoza's dead!" Marlow answered. "A ton of bricks came down on his head! I haven't seen Walker though."

Ven swallowed hard. He'd barely spoken to Mendoza. He knew he should be used to using people, but he wasn't, probably never would be.

"HENRY! HENRY!" Women's voices cried, soon joined by men. Ven and Bad Company followed the voices, trying to keep their balance as the earth continued to shake. The mayor and the sheriff soon materialized out of the dust, soon followed by Killian Jones and Cain. Sarge waved to them, the two women approached with utter terror in their eyes. They asked about their son, Henry.

"None of us have seen them," Sarge answered. "He could be anywhere, but right now we need to prioritize getting the hell out of this town!"

"Not without Henry!" both women snapped in unison.

"Where do you suggest we start?" Cain asked as the ground rumbled again. "The whole town is collapsing and will soon implode! Ven, if you have any magic left, I think you have a way to get us out of here quick."

Ven blinked as he remembered his board. He shut his eyes in thought and it appeared in a flash before them. He hopped aboard, the familiar sensation of flight felt good, even in the wake of such carnage. "I can maybe carry two or three!" he called out.

"Ladies first!" Cain said as he motioned for Regina and Emma to climb up with him.

"He beat me by one second," Ven heard Haggard grumble. A faint figure approached through the dust, it was Granny, the owner of the destroyed diner. Preston and Haggard rushed to her side and helped her onto the large, floating board.

"Hold on ladies!" Ven called as he carefully lifted higher off ground and picked up seed. He wasn't sure which direction he was going, but whatever the direction, eventually he'd reach the edge of town. He'd know when the dust cleared and the ground below wasn't torn asunder.

…

Walker awoke coughing in thick dust and smoke. The town was in ruins and the ground continued to shake. Whatever it was that Russian weapon had done, he knew he needed to get out of there fast.

"Look around, Walker," said Col. Konrad, standing over him as he climbed to his feet. "You're a one man plague, everywhere you go ends up like Dubai."

"This wasn't my fault!" Walker huffed. "The Russians did this. I did everything I could to stop this!"

"Indeed you did, Walker," Konrad went on indifferently. "Just like I did, and you did back in Dubai. It seems, once again, our bests aren't good enough." Walker shook his head.

"Shut the hell up, John. You're dead. I'm only imagining this."

"Are you sure you're fit for duty then? Maybe you should have taken that medical discharge when they offered it. There'd have been a more-than-generous stipend, I doubt you'd need to work another day in your life."

This time Walker ignored him and began staggering through the shattered brick and stone. He only hoped he was heading in the right direction. Then it occurred to him, whatever was happening was for the town itself. As long as he kept going he'd eventually reach the boundary.

His foot struck something soft and he looked down to see a teenaged boy laying in the dirt. It was the sheriff's son, Henry or Harry, he couldn't remember which from the brief. He knelt to pick him up, the cool flow of water struck his arms as he picked the kid up. Water was flowing from the ground. A sewer pipe? Septic tank? Then he remembered the map he'd been looking over since the brief, wanting to know the lay of the land. A natural creek ran through the town and out into the bay, a creek that was there before the curse!

Walker splashed through the growing, quickening stream with the kid in his arms. All he needed to do was follow the creek and he'd reach the border. Once there, he'd need to swing west and make his way around the town border and south to the highway. If there was anything left of FEAR or Bad Company, he figured they'd be rallying there.

Walker felt blood trickle down his face, every bone and muscle in his body ached. God only knew how far the blast had tossed him, he was lucky to be alive. He hadn't checked the kid's pulse, but he felt him breathing in his arms. With all this death and destruction, Walker only hoped he could save just this one life.

"You can't save shit!" Lugo hissed at Walker along the bank of the creek. "You couldn't even save me!"

"I tried, Lugo," Walker answered softly. "You know I tried."

"Losers always whine about how hard they tried!" Walker ignored him. "This creek don't go to Maine, it goes to hell, right were you belong!" Lugo snapped.

"The only place for people like us," Lt. Adams said from the opposite shore of the creek.

"It's not like that!" Walker huffed in exhaustion.

"Yes it is, boy," Agent Riggs appeared in front of him. Walker splashed past him, not giving his hallucination a second glance. "You didn't like my methods did you Walker? Fine by me, neither did that blonde boy Ventus. I didn't give a shit then either." Walker froze.

"How do you know about him?"

"Know about him?" Riggs laughed. "Hell I know more about him than you do. I recruited him. I'm the one who found him out with his little abilities." Walker shook his head, this wasn't real. He just had to ignore them and keep pressing on. Walker shut everything out of his mind but the water in front of him as he made his way up Toluca Creek.

…

Dawn crept over the horizon as hundreds of people staggered down the road into a small town along the coast. To the people of the town it looked like some kind of exodus. The displaced people were all covered with dirt and dust, many of them wounded. The friendly shop and café owners opened up early to get the desperate people something to eat and drink.

The dirt-covered, refugees explained they lived in small town to the north, a freak earthquake had utterly destroyed their homes. The good Samaritans were too polite to say they'd never heard of a town called Storybrooke, because now they never would. The entire town had felt the tremors the night before and the sight of U.S. soldiers confirmed that there had been a humanitarian effort, if only a small one.

Sergeant Redford led his four man-squad and about a half dozen other FEAR troops. As Ven had flown in and out of the town, he'd spotted multiple red flares, it turned out a few FEAR troops had survived the intense fighting and managed to rescue civilians from the rubble.

It had taken Ven several, perhaps dozens, of trips in and out of the town as fast as he could fly. He was more exhausted than he'd been in decades! Some of the town's people hand made their way to safety on their own. Ven had been moved, almost to tears, at the site of Geppetto and his newly reunited family along the road.

But Geppetto's family was the exception. Husbands had lost wives, mothers had lost children, and brothers had lost sisters. Ven summoned all his strength to keep his composure, all the tragedy and suffering he'd witnessed over the years had hardened him, but he wasn't made of stone, and never would be.

Regina leaned on Emma as they both staggered down the road, both women had been crying. They'd searched in vain for their son, but Henry was nowhere to be seen. Killian Jones stuck close to his wife, his missing eye covered by a bandage. His face was stony and bitter, but each glimpse to his wife softened him slightly.

A truck full of National Guard troops roared into town a few hours after sunrise. Cain spoke with them momentarily, feeding them one excuse or another. Not that it was completely necessary. All he needed to do was flash his credentials and the troops would know not to ask questions. But Cain prided himself in being moderate and easy going when circumstances permitted. It was one of the things Ven liked about him.

"So what's our next move, Company Man?" Sarge grumbled at Cain, before taking a gulp of hot coffee. The café was crowded and the waitresses were busy seeing to the others. There was no talk about bills for the people's orders, but Cain assured the owner the government would pick up the tab. American tax dollars at work.

"We find out where they've taken the Golds and why," Cain said smoothly. "I just got off the horn with Langley. They say their calling up all their assets in Russia, I'd say it's safe to assume that's where they're going."

"ASSUME!" Regina growled from the nearby table. "Like you ASSUMED we were the threat!"

"WHAT WAS I SUPPOSE TO THINK!?" Cain snapped back in rage. The boys of bad company at Cain's table and those who were at granny's, at the other table, were all shocked to silence. This was the first any of them had ever seen Cain lose his composure. Ven was impressed, he hadn't even gotten this worked up when he stabbed Gold through the hand. Cain cringed and quickly composed himself.

"My job is to protect this country from foreign and domestic threats. I came to this world to get away from wizards and witches like you," he hissed at Regina. "Because I knew the carnage and destruction your kind was capable of long before you and Gold came up with your little DARK CURSE. But I also knew most of your people weren't here by choice," he paused to nod towards the Charmings. "I did what I did, in attempt to make sure we could allow you and them to stay without having to worry about the hordes of MORDOR streaming out of rural Maine to cause chaos! Can you look me in the eyes and tell me such worries were unreasonable?"

Regina's eyes fell in resignation, Cain shrugged and slouched in the chair before chugging his own coffee. Ventus knew how they felt. He recalled an old movie with a depressing end. Earlier in that film, the protagonist recalled a time where he tried so hard to save a woman, but only ended up making sure she got hurt, the film ended in an identical scenario. It all reminded Ven so much of Nam and the other proxy conflicts of the Cold War.

"Well, hell," Marlow grunted. "We're all still alive aren't we?" all eyes were on him. "That means we still have fight in us."

"Amen to that, Pres," Haggard smiled. "I don't know about you guys but I'm itching for some payback."

"Everything in the past 24 hours makes NO LOGICAL sense!" Sweetwater hissed. "But for once, I'm completely onboard with Hags and Pres!"

Redford groaned and rested his face on his palm. "You guys are killing me!" he grumbled.

"Come on Sarge!" said Sweetwater. "Just admit it, you want to get to the bottom of all this too!"

"I'd rather be getting to the bottom of the Caribbean," he murmured. "All I have to say is, after what we've been through, your ASSETS in Russia had better come up with something!" Sarge growled at Cain.

Cain sighed. "Well the good news is we still have some FEAR troops with us," he motioned to gray and blue uniformed troops scattered through the diner, team one's point man sat at another crowded table with a female soldier resting in his arms with her head on his shoulder. "None of you have seen Lt. Walker?" The soldiers all shook their heads.

"WHAT ABOUT HENRY?" Regina demanded. "What about all the others we've lost? You think you can just walk away from this?!"

"We are doing everything we can!" Cain motioned out the window to National Guard troops handing out food and tents to the refugees. Ven noticed Emma, the sheriff, who sat silently at the table. Her mother clasped her hand, but neither said a word. Regina was in rage, but Emma was catatonic. Killian came into the café, his face was grim.

"No sign of, Henry yet," he said. Emma's head fell, but she still showed no emotion. Killian hung his head in shame. What if he didn't get out in time?

"Well cut my head off and whistle Dixie down my neck!" Haggard gasped, his eyes wide with amazement. "There's a sign!" he stood and pointed to the door. Ven followed his gaze and nearly fell backward in surprise.

"Get this kid a medic now!" Lt. Walker breathlessly demanded in the doorway. Blood trickled down his face, but he seemed more concerned about Henry, lying unconscious in his arms.

"LT!" Bad Company gasped in unison.

Their voices blended with the Regina, Emma, Killian, and the Charmings as they cried, "HENRY!"

Walker glared with anger. "Just get me a god…damn…medic…" he managed before falling over backwards in exhaustion.

…Summer 1864, Petersburg, VA…

Ven looked his marines over in the trench. Every one of them was ready, like they had been the past several times he looked them over. Ven sighed with impatience, the mine should have gone off ages ago!

Captain Ventus Ericson and his marine unit had cycled into the frontlines as a means of relieving exhausted Army units. He was thankful not to have gotten too many glares or harsh words from fellow Yankees. Though plenty grumbled when they thought he couldn't hear. A mixed infantry unit of black and white men was unspeakable. But General Grant gave no objection. Ven's weren't the only black men in uniform to be tested today.

Ven's unit was a hodgepodge of marines from various Navy ships, sent to help with the siege of Petersburg. Keeping all the marines uniformly black or white would have been too much trouble, more than Ventus was will to go through, though most marine units did keep to racial uniformity. Ven was glad to break that tradition, both races were in this mess of a war together. It seemed to him it was past time they started acting like it.

"There there, Captain darling," Sergeant Muldoon said. Ven paused to look at the Irish-immigrant. He was a fine marine, vicious in battle, but he didn't always seem sound of mind. "The mine will go off when it goes off, our little dearies and I are all ready for some fine rebel killing," he smiled with a wink.

Ven nodded and proceeded to look over his seven hundred marines, up and down the trench. Black and white faces nodded and saluted him with respect. Not just courteously, respectfully. The two were not the same. Curtesy was given to officers whether you respected them or not. Respect went both ways, and over the years Ven had given and earned respect. On multiple ships of the blockade, during numerous naval battles and boarding actions. Ven knew his men, whatever their skin color, would get the job done.

Ven opened his mouth to give an order and was taken off guard by the explosion. A deafening blast, a brilliant ball of fire, and thick black smoke billowing skyward. "Hear it my darlings!" Muldoon cheered. "There be our blast! The army engineers finally managed to get something right! Calm yourselves, dearies! The fun is about to begin!"

Ven shook his head, the bells ringing in his ears softened the carol. He heard other marines gasping in shock at the destruction ahead of them. As his ears stopped ringing he was certain he heard the wail of wounded across the way. He could not allow pity for the slavers. They brought this on themselves.

The command to attack filtered down to their position. "MARINES! ATTACK!" Ven shouted as he drew his sword. The men roared with the wrath of the corps as the scaled the trench ladders and charged pillar of black smoke. Soon the uphill climb went into a slope, a massive crater from the explosion. Ven figured they'd be running into the enemy soon and urged his marines on. Soon the crater was packed elbow to elbow with union troops, but not a single confederate to be seen.

"KEEP MOVING FORWARD, DEARIES!" Muldoon roared over the chaotic ruckus. "THE REBS BE BEYOND THIS HERE HOLE!" Ven elbowed his way to the front of the attack, alongside Muldoon. The crater sloped steeply upward, Ven dreaded what was to come. Faces in grey and brown appeared atop the crater.

"YANKEES! SHOOT EM!" a southern voice yelped as a barrage of musketry rained down upon the men in blue. Soldiers and marines trampled their fallen comrades in a mad dash up the crater. No use, the edge was too steep, and the few who could scale it soon fell to bullets and bayonets.

"FALL BACK, DARLINGS!" Muldoon howled, as if he could read Ven's mind. "THEY HAVE US LIKE FISH IN A BARREL! ABOUT FACE AND WITHDRAW, FOR YOUR LIVES!" Panic swept marine and soldier alike as they all realized there was no escape. Troops were pushing forward from the rear as those at the front pushed frantically to escape the doomed attack. The rebels fired mercilessly down into the massive pit. The union's grand strategy had become a self-inflicted trap.

It wasn't long before the men in grey above them noticed the black marines and soldiers scrambling in the mix. "NAT TURNERS! KILL THEM ALL!" the confederates bellowed amid the rebel yell. Ven seethed in disgust at the name, his men were killers, like all marines, but nothing like that child-murdering fanatic. Sharpshooters specifically targeted every black face they saw. Ven roared with fury and fired his revolver up at the enemy. As his men tried in vain to claw their way out, panicking white union soldiers began to exchange blows with black marines and soldiers, spouting curses and hateful names identical to those used by the rebels. Some came to blows, punching, stabbing, and even shooting their brothers in blue, all to spite their skin color. Sgt. Muldoon buried his bowie knife in the belly of a union soldier who'd just shot a black private. Ven was disgusted beyond words, beyond violence. This was no battle, it was chaos!

Muldoon and Ven managed to rally enough troops to make a final desperate scramble forward, hoping to claw past the rebels with sheer numbers. It failed miserably, rebels who ran out of ammo began throwing knives, bayonets, rifles, pistols, and whatever else they could throw down on the union troops.

Some confederates tumbled mistakenly down into the pit. Men in blue lunged for the easy prey, their hot bloody thirsting for revenge. More rebels leapt down to their brothers' aid, a vicious melee ensued. Ven slashed wildly at the enemy, his pistol long since emptied. Out of the corner of his eye, Ven caught sight of a rebel officer lunging his way. He brought up his sword just in time to block the saber. He snarled up at his attacker, but froze in shock as he made eye contact.

Two familiar blue eyes glared down on him. The rebel officer's hat had been knocked off in the fighting, dark brown hair stood up in its habitual style. The young man's face hadn't aged a day since Ven had last seen him at the graveyard of keyblades. "TERRA?" Ven gasped.

Ven tumbled back dumbstruck against the wall of the crater as his oldest friend head-butted him. Amid his daze, Ven could see the vengeful, unforgiving blue eyes approaching. Terra thrusted his blade, Ven narrowly dodged the blow. "TERRA IT'S ME!" Ven cried, only to dodge a furious swing. There was no recognition in Terra's eyes, the bloodlust of battle blinded him.

Another near miss and Ven swiped his hat from his blonde hair. "IT'S ME! IT'S VENTUS!" Terra seemed to pause for an instant, a flash of recognition. He blinked, shook his head and swung again in defiance of his own eyes. Ven couldn't dodge in time, the saber slashed his cheek, the sudden pain staggered him. He tumbled to the dirt and looked up in horror as the only brother he ever had moved in for the kill.

A pistol thundered as a bullet ripped into Terra's chest. The sudden force knocked him over. Ven cried out in horror, tried to shout Terra's name, but only a hoarse wail came out. He felt the strong hands of Sgt. Muldoon grab hold of his shoulders and drag him away. More of his brother marines came to his aid, lifting him from all sides and shielding him from oncoming bullets. He calling out for his fallen brother as exhaustion claimed him. Terra was here! In this world! Was he real? Was it all his imagination? Blackness engulfed Ven as he continued muttering the name "Terra."

July 3, 1863, Gettysburg…

Terra cursed under his breath as he looked out across the mile stretch of opened ground between the woods and the union battlements on Cemetery Ridge. This is suicide! The generals had to know it! All that opened ground, and Yankees have had two days to entrench cannon and reinforcements along their entire line. He understood why Longstreet was taking his time in giving the order. The cannonade was wavering, the cannons had to be running low by now. Terra knew better than to hope their artillery barrage had softened up the Billy Yanks.

Still the men behind him moaned and groaned to finally get on with it. Most of them were battle hardened, and knew this charge would likely be their last. Terra wondered if it was boredom or spite for the Yankees that fueled their impatience.

"I think this will be our last one, Lieutenant," Corporal Josh Henry said behind him. "Terra turned to see the young man shivering and trembling, despite the oppressive heat and humidity, even under the shade of the trees. Although small in stature, the blonde haired corporal had a good heart and was braver than most. But even he knew this battle was different, different from any other battle they'd fought before. Terra shook his head.

"We'll make it, the blue bellies will run away like they did at Manassas," Terra gently lied. The union army had changed. They weren't green and stupid atop their high horse of self-righteousness, like they had been at Bull Run Creek. Lincoln had replaced the timid and arrogant leadership with more cool headed veterans. Union troops were better trained and now fought to defend their home turf. And Lincoln's emancipation proclamation had breathed new life into their spirits.

Terra was careful not to let his true feelings about slavery be known. Josh Henry's father, a slave owner, had been kind enough to take him in after he awoke in a daze on his front stoop three years ago. Terra was as kind to the slaves as to anyone, often earning him sneers and rude jokes from the hired overseers. Though these same overseers knew better than to make such jokes at Josh, who was equally kind to the slaves. Terra even looked the other way as some slaves slipped off in the night, heading north. But he knew he owed it to the Henry family for taking him in and letting him earn his living as a farm hand. So he kept his mouth shut.

It took time for Terra's memories to come back, it was still pretty hazy, but he remembered the fight in the graveyard, he remembered seeing Ven consumed by Vanitas, and Aqua struggling to keep on her feet. Then all went blank. He knew this was where Xehanort wanted him, locked away in another world with no way out. Maybe making him immortal and a fast healer was some kind of sick joke, to keep him trapped there, unable to die. Terra came to appreciate it as he survived numerous battle injuries that killed most others, thankfully the doctors were always too busy to notice his repeated miraculous recoveries.

"All them Yankees out there, just waiting for us!" Josh whimpered. "If Bobby Lee wants us dead so damn bad why don't they just get it over with!" he almost shouted.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Terra snapped. Josh lowered his head in shame. They'd both met General Lee, they knew he was a good man. But Terra was worried the old man had developed a false sense of invincibility. A belief that they could never be defeated. Terra tried his hardest to convince himself this charge would not be a rude awakening for Lee.

General Amistad approached the mass of soldiers and ordered them to the edge of the treeline. The men all followed him jubilantly. Terra smiled, it was Amistad who noticed his fighting abilities and granted him a battlefield commission. Josh followed nervously behind his lieutenant. Terra reached back to put a hand on his shoulder. "Just stick close to me, like always. I'll get us through this," he assured him. Josh nodded gratefully, but with no hint of confidence. Terra steeled his thoughts, no matter what happened in this charge, he intended to see Josh back to his father.

Soon Amistad drew his saber and barked the order to advance. 15,000 confederates marched out into the grassy field, blazing sunlight beating down on them. Nature itself trying to stop them, but on they marched. Terra could hear Henry huffing and whimpering behind him, he wasn't the only one. All of them knew what was coming.

Sure enough, the Yankee cannons opened up. Metal balls blazed into the advancing soldiers, ripping through several men at a time. Near the midway point to the union lines, a slight downward slope revealed a previously unseen fence. Terra's eyes widened, hadn't seen it before. The men began to climb over it when a hail of metal balls tore into them all down the line. Men fell by the dozen in single cannon blasts. Terra looked down in horror at soldiers laying in pieces around him, some of them still moving, others not. Canister shot! Pouches filled with small metal balls, which turned cannons into massive shotguns.

"VIRGINIANS! TEAR DOWN THE FENCE AND FOLLOW ME!" General Amistad shouted over the cacophony. Terra and the others didn't need to be told twice, he drew his sword and hacked at the fence until the wood gave way and the men ripped the pieces free, opening a narrow way. Up and down the line more confederates got the idea.

Amistad took off his hat, impaled it on his saber and held it high for his men to follow. The men surged forward in triumph, following their beloved leader into the jaws of death. Terra couldn't help but get caught up in the enthusiasm, he followed closely behind Amistad, Josh in his wake. Union troops still hadn't opened fire as they came ever closer to their battlements. For a brief moment, Terra actually thought the cannonade had done the trick.

"FREDERICKSBURG!" the shrill cry went up as men in blue emerged from their trenches and fired a volley into the charging men in grey. Terra recognized the accents on the voices and the green flag, it was the Irish Brigade! The one that took such a great beating months ago at Fredericksburg. They were back and itching for revenge.

Amistad tumbled to the ground as a bullet struck him. Terra couldn't worry about that now, he gripped his sword and charged for the first blue uniform in sight. A bullet ripped into his gut, he growled in pain but refused to stop, running straight at the shocked yank who shot him. He ran him through then spun around to swing his sword into the next nearest Irishman.

A melee ensued as the blue and grey hacked and slashed at each other. Soon most uniforms were dyed red. Terra hardly noticed his men falling back behind him. He turned to swing his blade into one Yankee after another. In the corner of his eye he spotted a bayonet thrusting at his back, too late, he braced himself for the pain. It never came, a rifle blast brought the yank to the ground. Terra turned to see Josh smiling nervously.

"Lieutenant, we need to fall back with the others," Josh was cut off by bullet ripping through his heart.

"NO!" Terra cried as he dropped his weapon and stumbled down beside his fallen friend. Josh looked up at him, life fading from his brown eyes. "NO! VEN!" Terra stopped himself as he realized his mistake. He looked down longingly as he realized how much Josh resembled Ventus. Josh didn't seem to notice the error as his eyes slid shut and his body went limp.

"NO!" Terra howled, consumed by rage and grief. He didn't even feel the rifle butt against his head until he regained consciousness in a union army field hospital the next morning. Weeks went by until he and others were finally exchanged across the Potomac for captured union troops. He couldn't bring himself to write the Henry's about their son, they'd have already known by then. He took no comfort in being welcomed back by the handful that remained of his old regiment, nor in his promotion to captain.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's notes: Okay everyone, at long last, here we are. And a nice long one, with some insight on Terra's current state of mind. But I warn you, it won't be pretty.

The Russian-Chinese border, 1900

The Russian Army charged with a vicious warcry. Terra gripped his Mosin-Nagant as he led his squad of white-clad soldiers into the small Chinese border town. Somehow he knew he couldn't hide from who he was forever. After the fall of the Confederate States, Terra made his way to Europe, partially out of unwillingness to accept defeat and partially out of grief for his comrades, so many had died, yet he kept on living. He hadn't even aged a day since, whatever kept him alive kept him young as well.

He did his best not to get involved in any more wars. Made his way to the far eastern coast of Russia and became a whaler. Made good friends with the locals, learned the language, and even attended the local Orthodox Church, though he was still unsure if he could bring himself to believe in the man on the cross. The thought made him laugh at himself; other dimensions and magic swords were, after all, so much more rational.

Then word reached the small whaling village that the Czar was calling for recruits. A radical faction in China was on a rampage against all foreigners, especially clergymen and native Chinese Christians; who they viewed as traitors. Father Piter at the village's St. Mikael the Archangel church was overcome with fear for his cousin, an orthodox missionary in Peking. The Empress of China, who infamously despised all but her own people, had ordered her army to aid the radicals, known as Boxers. Effectively declaring war on the entire world.

Reports had already arrived of what the boxers and imperial Chinese did to any foreigners or Christians captured. Beheadings, dismemberments, burnings, burying alive. The whole village held a prayer vigil that night and when the army arrived for recruits, men eagerly volunteered. Terra was one of them, he'd hoped to avoid war, but he couldn't let this happen. The Captain looked at him skeptically when he told them he'd fought for the Confederacy in America. He sighed as he realized he should look middle aged by now.

"I'm older than I look," he'd shrugged, which seemed to convince them. His expertise in drill, fighting, and weaponry put all doubts in him to death. He'd quickly risen to the rank of sergeant, and once again found himself leading men into battle.

As they approached the town, shrill cries went up as muskets flared to life. One or two men went down, but on they charged with a roaring war cry. Another volley came as they closed in, more went down. Terra realized the Chinese were firing muskets instead of rifles. Who the hell still used muskets?

"FORWARD MEN!" the Captain bellowed. "FOR RUSSIA! IN THE NAME OF THE CZAR!" Terra and his men swarmed forward. The fancily dressed Chinese imperials trembled with fear as they frantically reloaded, not fast enough. Terra leapt into one of them, knocking over and nailing him to the ground with his bayonet. He ripped the rifle free of the limp body to fire it into another imperial armed with an elaborate sword.

Russians were known to be ruthless and brutal in war, Terra now saw why. The professional regular troops fought with cool composure, sighting and taking targets gracefully. The raw conscripts, with hardly any training but that which the veterans could give them on the march, were fair enough marksmen, most of them hunters. But stabbed and slashed wildly like a raging mob, but to brutal effectiveness.

Most Chinese regulars fled, they knew they were outmatched. But soon the irregulars arrived, the boxers. Some of them dressed in medieval armor, others in rags, with elaborate weapons. They were martial artists, most of them seemed inebriated on some kind of drug. Rumor was that they used hallucinogens to make themselves feel like invincible warriors. Thankfully they were likely too high to be disappointed as they fell to Russian rifles.

The boxers charged wildly, screaming like demons. Many of them already splashed with blood, some waved severed heads of foreigners. Even with his magical healing and inability to die, Terra would have rather faced a thousand unversed. The intoxicated radicals attacked wildly, though most were felled with ease, even by the younger Russians with shaky hands who sometimes dropped bullets as they frantically reloaded.

Terra had trained them as best he could on the march south. It would have been easier if the officers hadn't constantly intervened. Russian combat doctrine was still to fire one shot in unison and reload together before firing another combined volley. Though the Mosin-Nagant could hold multiple bullets.

One boxer with a spear lunged at Terra before he could fire. Terra knocked the spear tip aside and grazed the boxer's gut with his bayonet. The two of them circled each other, it was a duel. Terra brandished his rifle like a spear, his keyblade training kicked in, it had been a long time since he'd fought one on one. The boxer gave a thrust and followed up with a kick, Terra blocked both. Another thrust, this time Terra caught the blow and their weapons locked. The boxer grinned sadistically, inches from Terra's face. Remembering a trick that served him well in Virginia, Terra released his own weapon and tackled the boxer to the ground, grasping the man's throat and squeezing with all his might. The smaller man flailed desperately, but soon went limp. Terra snapped his neck to make sure, then picked up his rifle and resumed the attack with his comrades.

The last of the Chinese troops tried to surrender. The Russians wouldn't let them. It made Terra sick to watch, but he said nothing, they had their orders from the Captain. Chinese showed no mercy to Russian citizens, clergymen, and converts. Neither would they. Blood for blood. Some died whimpering and pleading, others died running, or galloping away on horseback. A rare few died fighting.

Once the town was secure, there was loud cheering. Then music, dancing, food, and vodka. Terra had finally gotten use to Russia's signature drink. Though he could never bring himself to dance. After sunset the drinking and dancing continued. Terra had barely had a sip, anticipating trouble and wanting a cool head when the fighting needed to be broken. A woman's scream confirmed his worries.

Terra rushed down the street to the source of the shout. He found a huddle laughing soldiers, many he recognized. He elbowed his way through them and roared with wrath to see one of his men, a Private Volgin, ripping the clothes off a whimpering Chinese girl, bother her eyes blackened. "VOLGIN!" Terra bellowed as he wrapped his arm around the soldier's neck and dragged him off the poor girl. He tossed Volgin to the ground and shot a searing glare at the men, shocking them to silence.

Volgin cackled wickedly up at him. "So you want her for YOUR prize, sergeant?" he asked. "That's fine, see for yourself, there is plenty to go around," he motioned to the wall of the nearby house. The soldiers all laughed as he followed Volgin's gaze, where several other girls sat sobbing, Russian soldiers keeping them there at gunpoint.

"ENOUGH!" Terra roared, silence returned. "You men, put those weapons away, those girls are not enemy soldiers! You will let them go at once!" The soldiers blinked in surprise, but obeyed their sergeant. The girls kept crying, he figured they didn't speak Russian, thankfully he'd met enough Chinese fishermen out on the water to pick up their language. "All of you go home, these men will not bother you anymore." He said in Chinese. The girls gazed around in confusion but soon ran away. The soldiers stood in sullen, disappointed, silence.

"You'd deny us our prizes!" Volgin growled.

"They are not prizes they are WOMEN!" Terra snapped. "They are not soldiers, our fight is not with them! Now all of you go!" Terra barely finished before grappling with Volgin's arm as it came up at his gut with a bayonet. He shifted his weight and wrenched the blade free, then punched the drunkard's face with full force. He heard and felt the cracking of his nose against his knuckles. Volgin stumbled backwards, wailing in pain. The rest of the troops stared wide-eyed, Volgin was one of the toughest of the recruits.

"Does anyone else think they can beat me?" Terra spun around, asking the entire crowd. "The Chinese, think this little war of theirs is justified. They think we are a barbarian horde! That is why the slaughter our countrymen and converts. Do you all wish to prove them right? There is to be no more of this. You may take whatever loot you want from the town, spoils of war. But no women, no matter their crimes deserve this!" he finished.

The faces of many cruel women he'd met in his travels flashed before his eyes. The evil queen, Lady Termain, Maleficent. Then came the faces of the kindest and most beautiful women; Aurora, Cinderella, Snow White, and finally Aqua, the most beautiful of all. Not a single woman he'd ever met could match her. He turned to the beaten girl on the ground, still sobbing, but seeming to calm down. His war experiences had hardened him, but not that much. No matter what the boxers had done he would not allow that poor girl to be violated, he wouldn't let it happen even to Maleficent, that's where he drew the line.

Terra bent down to the girl, reaching a hand down with a gentle smile. She gingerly reached up and accepted his hand. Terra began to pull her to her feet when he was hit by a lightning bolt. A mighty force thundered through him and into the girl's face, she fell limp into the dirt, a gaping hole were her face had been. Terra was too shocked and too familiar with this pain to stagger or fall. A rifle at close range. Most of the soldiers gasped in horror.

Volgin's chuckle went up from behind. "It looks like we need a new sergeant now," he laughed. "I say it might as well be me, someone who will reward his soldiers for their good works! Now some of you go and fetch those girls back." The arrogant fool was too drunk and too filled with his own triumph to notice Terra slowly turning around to face him. The soldiers all stared in shock as their sergeant refused to fall. That shot would have felled a bear!

"What's the matter with you fools?" Volgin demanded. "You're new sergeant just gave you all an order! Don't tell me you're all catching victor's guilt?" he paused in shock as Terra's glaring eyes caught his. Volgin dropped the rifle in surprise.

"I would have let you live!" Terra growled, almost whispering, but his voice carried through the silence. Terra's hand drew his revolver all on its own. Volgin was too shocked to run. Terra aimed low, shooting him in his groin. Volgin tumbled to the ground squealing like a girl.

"I WAS GOING TO LET YOU LIVE!" Terra bellowed over the scream at the top of his lungs as he approached the bleeding soldier. His eyes blazed with wrath, the castrated man found no mercy as he held up his hand in submission. His face vanished in the gunshot, just as the girl's did.

The rest of the soldiers were frozen statues. "Have I made myself clear?" Terra asked after a full minute of catching his breath. They all nodded. "We move out at dawn, all of you go to sleep." They scurried away, trembling in terror. There was no sleep for Terra that night, he spent it digging the girl's grave, and then Volgin's. A soldier takes care of his own, even the bad ones.

Over the next week, the Russian army advanced south toward Peking. Some towns resisted, others did not but in each the Russians reveled in their conquest. Some conducted themselves honorably, but many more acted like conquering barbarians. Terra and a handful of officers and sergeants did their best to keep the men in line.

Soon Terra's men came to respect his wishes and behaved themselves, some even helped him keep the others out of trouble. Terra's unit soon realized their new positions of authority gave them a less violent opportunity to enjoy themselves with the local girls; trading the spoils they'd loot from the town, most of which probably belonged to the women anyway, in exchange for what they called "slightly dishonorable favors."

Terra was not happy about this but shrugged, "If these women are fool enough to let you animals touch them, even for pay, it is up to them." It wasn't a very dignified option but at least the girls weren't forced upon. Since Terra was one of the few who could speak the native language he quickly became the spokesman to the locals. It became routine for him to address the women of the towns saying, "We did not start this war. You're empress has declared war on Russia and has attacked and murdered her people. That said our war is with her, not you. But bad behavior is not uncommon among soldiers. My men and I will do what we can to protect you, but not all Russians share our sentiments and we cannot be everywhere at once. You may trade with the men at your own risk."

It felt like such a cold hearted thing to say, but it was the best they could do. In every town they found more signs of the Boxers' atrocities. Churches burned, often filled with charred skeletons, big and small. Severed heads mounted on spikes. Terra's sympathy for the conquered people began to wear thin. So thin he had little to spare as Russian troops executed their prisoners. Local town militias would sometimes put up brave fights, though ill prepared and worse trained. But none could stem the might of Russia for long. Terra convinced as many of his fellow soldiers to show mercy as he could. But others wouldn't listen.

In some villages, women would rush out in front of the soldiers, begging for mercy. They confessed to having been Christians, but had abandoned their faith for Buddhism, usually after having witnessed their husbands and fathers murdered. Occasionally a priest would be traveling with the army and pardon the women's sins. These women would travel with the army, fearing more violence from their neighbors. Most soldiers did not bother these women, though some "traded" with them. Sometimes a younger soldier might take one as his wife.

In one costal town, Terra took a squad out to the nearby cliffs, where some had seen civilians running. His squad was made up of men he trusted, men who had tasted the fire of combat, but would behave themselves when the fighting was done. Soon they came into sight of the costal cliffs and there stood over a dozen women, all holding hands and facing out to sea along the ledge.

Terra's eyes widened. "NO!" he shouted. "STOP! DON'T DO IT!" It was no use, their minds were made up. The stories of Russian brutality had spread like wildfire. They stepped over the ledge in unison. All but one. The girl in the light blue dress had let go of the other's hands at the last second and stood in shocked silence. Terra rushed forward, she turned to him in terror, teetering on the ledge. He stopped short, "Please don't do this!" Terra gasped. "My men will not hurt you! I will protect you!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head and stepped over the edge.

"NO!" Terra lunged and caught her wrist. She dangled over the rocky waters below, flailing like a worm on a hook. Terra lifted her to safety, she showed her gratitude by slapping and punching his arm pathetically. "Monster! Monster!" she hissed in her native language. Then she bit into his hand, he cringed in pain but did not loosen his grip. Terra grasped her throat.

"Monsters don't feel pain, I do!" he growled. "Please stop doing that!" Her teeth released his hand, his hand released her neck. Her glare of defiance melted away as she collapsed to her knees. More tears flowed.

Terra felt more rotten than ever. This girl had just lost everything. Her home, her family, her friends. Was it kindness to save her? She might be able to start over, but even Terra hadn't recovered from losing his own world. He had friends back at the whaling village, but no family, he lived in a crude shack with little to his name but necessities. He still wasn't certain if he'd really seen Ven that day in Petersburg, had he imagined it? What were the chances that he and Ven could have been imprisoned in the same world? He'd long since stopped asking these questions.

"My name is Zemlya," he told her the Russian name he'd taken. She looked up slowly, sniffled then whimpered her name.

"I am Shui," she said. Terra blinked at the name. It was the Chinese word for water. Aqua… Looking down at her he saw Aqua's gentleness in her. She had fought as viciously as she could, as Aqua would have, and when given the cowards way out with all the other girls, she didn't take it. For a brief moment Terra though he saw Aqua's face projected over hers. He shook his head, only her puzzled face remained. A beautiful face in its own right, one that could match Aqua's.

Without a word Terra scooped the girl up in his arms and began carrying her back toward the town. His dumbstruck men following behind him. He heard an odd giggle, but couldn't summon any anger. The girl looked up at him in his arms, confused, frightened. "Don't worry, Shui," he whispered gently. "I will not hurt you. No one will ever hurt you. Not ever." She stopped shivering and gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He made his way to the house in the village "confiscated" for his men and him. He found a small room with a bed, isolated from the others. He laid her down gently in the bed. "Stay here, I'll bring you food later," he said and left without another word. He exited the building, warning every soldier that the room at the far end of the hall was his and any and all things inside it were his and his alone. They all nodded in compliance, knew better than to argue. The squad he'd led out to the cliffs stood waiting for him outside, toothy grins on their faces. Terra knew how it must have looked and could not resist a smile of his own.

"Not a word out of any of you!" he snapped through his grin. The men chuckled.

"Perhaps we might find a bottle of vodka for you, sergeant?" one of them joked.

"Maybe we could find you a priest too?" more laughs.

"Lucky for you, there's been enough death for today!" Terra snapped.

That evening Terra brought Shui her dinner. A bowl of rice and a bowl of borscht. She ate the food gratefully, though he could tell she was not use to the borscht. He offered her a flask of vodka, and was surprised to see her accept it and take quick swig. He was less surprised to see her eyes widen as she coughed in the wake of the strong, clear liquid. She desperately grappled control of her stomach, just like him when he first downed the stuff. Vodka kicked everyone's ass the first time. She seemed to get light headed, vodka was rough but fewer things could assure a restful nights' sleep.

To Terra's shock, she stood and began to undress. He quickly turned around, his face ablaze with embarrassment. "I will sleep outside the door," he told her. "But I'm a light sleeper, no one will bother you." Before he could reach the door, he felt a soft hand clutch his. He turned around and quickly fixed his eyes on Shui's, she wore nothing but a white loin cloth. She said nothing, but her face showed sadness and longing, her face was red; embarrassed, drunk, or maybe both.

"Stay?" she pleaded. Terra nodded with a sigh. He helped her into the bed, wrapped her in the sheet and climbed in beside her. He stayed on top of the blanket and did not undress. She leaned against him and fell asleep instantly. He stayed awake for a while, his arm wrapped gently around her.

Shui stayed by his side as the Russian Army marched deeper into Manchuria. She cooked and cleaned for him, and slept beside him. Terra held her protectively in his arms at night, but never took advantage of her. Most of the men came to respect her as they did Terra, some of lower ranks even helped with her chores. At nights when the men drank, sang, and danced, they'd offer her vodka and invite her to dance. Eventually she warmed up to them and joined the dance. Terra, however stubbornly refused to dance, much to Shui's disappointment. The men only laughed at Terra's broodiness. Terra ignored their jokes, but could never take his eyes of Shui. Her smile as the music played, her energy as she danced, her grace with every movement. She was so beautiful!

Months later the Army rejoiced at the surrender of the Empress on September 7, 1901. She surrendered all of Manchuria to Russia and signed a peace treaty with the west. Hopes among the Russians of going home were soon dashed. It was now their job to permanently occupy and fortify Manchuria, a prize for the Czar! Though the Boxers were crushed and the imperial army removed, bands of vicious bandits still raided Russian troops throughout the region. And Russia's neighbors in Japan gazed out greedily from their newly conquered Chinese territory upon Manchuria. The people of the rising sun wanted Czar Nicholas' prize, Terra and his men were charged with defending it.

Christmas Day, 1901, a Russian fort outside Mukden, Manchuria…

The cold was not as biting as in Russia, but Terra was still grateful for the vodka. The men clapped as fiddles played around the roaring fire. Shui was dancing, her flexibility the equal of most soldiers. Terra couldn't help but smile. He downed another gulp of vodka, not just for warmth, liquid courage for what was to come. Should he tell her first? He knew he'd have to tell her eventually. But what would she do? Laugh, thinking it was a joke? Run away from him in fear? Speak to the army doctors and have him committed?

Terra knew what he wanted and if he pursued his new dream, he could not keep the truth of who he was and where he came from a secret forever. The song ended and Shui panted for breath. The men cheered, offering her more vodka, which she accepted graciously. She made eye-contact with Terra, offered him a pleading smile and held up one finger. She'd learned Russian fairly well over the past several months, but still often depended on body language. Her request was clear, "Please dance with me, just this once?"

All doubts abandoned Terra as he downed one last gulp and stood. His men gaped in shock as he strode past them toward Shui. She blinked in surprise at first but soon gave a shocked smile. It wasn't the first time she'd begged him to dance. Her eyes widened further when he cupped her face in his hands and planted a gentle but passionate kiss on her lips.

Shouts of surprise and raunchy cheers roared from the crowd of inebriated Russians. After several seconds, Terra reluctantly pulled away. Shui had shut her eyes and stood frozen in wonder. She slowly opened her eyes.

"Zemlya?" she asked faintly.

"Yes?"

"Are you drunk?" he shook his head. "Am I?"

"No," he answered. Before she could say another word Terra motioned to the fiddlers nearby. They obeyed like good soldiers. Terra leapt into action, dancing as good as any Russian. Shui's mouth dropped momentarily, but she quickly shook her head and leapt into the dance beside him. The dance seemed to go on for hours, long past sundown into the dark of the morning.

Eventually the troops were too tired and drunk to keep dancing. Some retired to their barracks, other just slept where they fell. Shui was staggering, barely able to walk, exhaustion and vodka winning the battle that began at dinner. Terra carried her to his quarters, a small room isolated from the rest. He let her down beside the bed. Her strength seemed to have returned, perhaps it was more exhaustion than vodka; she'd clearly gotten used to it. Again he cupped her face his hands.

"Shui?"

"Yes?"

"There's something I need to tell you," he said hesitantly. She gazed back into his eyes with a nod. Terra sighed, unable to say what needed to be said. Not yet anyway. A soft smile spread his lips. "I love you," he said. She blinked, her eyes began to tear up. "Do you feel the same?"

"Yes," she sniffled through her tears, now she was smiling too.

"Then marry me," he said. "Be my wife."

"I will," she said, her tears flowing. He embraced her with all his strength but quickly loosened, fearful he would crush her. She showed no restraint, hugging him back with equal might. He kissed her again, harder than before, like a starving man who'd stumbled into a feast. She kissed him back with equal desperation. Their hands seemed to work by instinct as their kiss ensued, removing each other's clothing until nothing stood between them but the night. He pinned her down in the bed and the kiss went on as their hands explored each other. Earth and Water merged as one throughout the night. A bond Terra prayed would never be broken.

Mukden, Manchuria, March, 1905…

Terra unleashed hail of bullets as he furiously levered and fired his Henry-Martini rifle, almost as rapidly as the nearby machine gun. Japanese troops fell by the hundreds. The artillery roared from the rear, sending explosive shells mercilessly down on the charging soldiers in black.

"KEEP FIRING! FOR RUSSIA!" Terra shouted in unison with the officers. Terra's platoon was firing more rapid than any other on the front. Most Russians still followed combat doctrine of loading only one bullet into their rifles and reloading after each shot. Terra had long since taught his platoon to fill the magazine with five bullets and fire rapidly at the invaders. He was grateful the officers saw the effectiveness and did nothing to discourage his defiance, though they stubbornly refused to adopt it.

"FOR RUSSIA!" Captain Reznov bellowed over the thunder of battle. Terra was glad he didn't say "In the name of the Czar!" Czar Nicholas' mismanagement of the army and navy had infuriated the military throughout the ranks. Just recently they'd learned that their promised reinforcements were not coming. A mutiny had broken out in the Black Sea fleet, they refused to obey any further orders from the Czar. Terra might have applauded them, even joined them, if the motherland weren't at war. But in the face of the enemy this betrayal was unforgivable!

Corporal Raikov fired the machine gun furiously nearby. But he was careful not to overheat the water-cooled weapon. In previous battles Raikov would simply clench the trigger and wildly swing it left and right. Terra had saved him multiple times and helped him to cool and repair the overheated weapon. Now Raikov marked his black-uniformed targets, fired controlled bursts and kept sighting for more. Terra was proud of him. The less accurate, more rapid spray of machine guns had often proved more effective than accurate rifle fire in this new age of warfare.

Terra heard a whimper, another young private crumbled to his knees. The man shivered uncontrollably. Terra slumped down into the trench and pulled the private to his feet, clutching his shoulders in a firm grip. The soldier looked up with wide-eyes. "Fight or die, private," Terra growled. "Your life is not the only one at stake here!"

The shivering private nodded and climbed up to fire his rifle at the enemy. Terra sighed, the shaky private might not be able to hit anything, but at least he might keep the enemies' heads down. Another shell exploded nearby, sending mangled body parts flying, a faint mist of blood sprayed the trench. Screams echoed; screams of pain, screams of horror, screams of grief, screams of incoming shells. All Russian guns went silent as the barrage intensified. The inertia flattened Terra against the mud floor of the trench.

A chaotic bell carol rang in Terra's ears as he pushed himself to his feet. He blinked the mud from his eyes, his white uniform and green trousers both now a slimy brown. The young private emerged from the mud and trampled away toward the rear. Terra coughed mud from his mouth as he tried to call after him.

Bodies and mangled pieces of them littered the trench. Terra shook his head and the ringing began to fade. Faint cries and moans from the wounded and dying became audible. He couldn't find his rifle but was relieved to feel the Nagant revolver at his hip. Distant trumpets blared, high pitched war cries went up. The Japanese were coming.

"ZEMLYA!" a familiar voice called nearby. "ZEMLYA, MY LOVE!" Shui stumbled into view, gasping in horror at the mangled bodies.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Terra roared with rage. "GO BACK!" What was she thinking? She knew it wasn't safe. Shui froze in shock for a brief moment before recognizing her husband.

"My love! I thought you were dead!" she panted.

"PAPA!" a young boy's voice cried out behind Shui. To Terra's horror, his son came into view at his wife's side.

"Veter!" Shui shrieked as she knelt to pick up her son. "I told you to stay with the Colonel!" Terra cursed between his teeth. The shrill cries of the Japanese grew louder.

"BOTH OF YOU GO NOW! RUN!" Terra seethed.

"Not without you!" Shui insisted.

"THERE'S NOT TIME! I'LL HOLD THEM OFF, NONE OF THEM CAN KILL ME!" Terra snapped. Shui's eyes welled with tears, Veter's did the same. Terra cursed himself for never summoning the courage to tell her about his healing ability. He rushed to his wife, grabbed her by the arm and began dragging back the way they came. Footsteps thudded overhead and strange voices called out. The enemy was right above them.

Without warning a man in a black uniform a slid down the trench in front of them. Terra and his family froze in their tracks. The Japanese soldier's eyes widened in surprise as he brought up his rifle. Terra wasted no time rushing forward and skewering him with his bayonet. The enemy let out an anguished cry, prompting angry shouts from above. Several more Japanese jumped down into the mud, their war cries drowning out Shui's and Veter's terrified screams.

Terra fought like a wild cat, thrusting his bayonet then swinging his rifle like a club. The enemy soldiers fell limp in the mud only to be replaced by more leaping down from above. The melee was utter chaos as the a dozen Japanese tried to subdue a single Russian. Terra blocked their strikes and struck blows of his own in quick succession.

A mighty blow cracked against the back of Terra's skull. A rifle butt, he figured as his world began to blur. He staggered as he tried desperately to wait off the stun of the hit. The furious Japanese gave no quarter. One of them thrust the butt of his rifle into Terra's nose, he felt the crack but was numb to the pain. Then a boot struck his groin, dazing his world further. He crumbled to his knees, hearing nothing but his wife and sons cries. As his world blurred he could still see them clearly, kneeling in the mud, tears streaming down their cheeks.

The attacks stopped, the Japanese cleared away. Mercy? No, an officer. They parted as he past them by, brandishing a revolver, a Nagant looted from a fallen Russian. He growled like a wolf as he grunted something harshly into Terra's face; an insult, Terra figured. He heard Shui shouting, begging mercy for her husband. Then the shot came, a blinding flash, a sudden impact, and Terra fell backwards. Shui was screaming, but he couldn't move. Was this the end?

Several seconds went by and multiple muffled Japanese voices echoed before Terra found the strength to sit up again. His body could heal a headshot after all. The world seemed to be exploding around him. Artillery! It had to be Russian, barraging their own trenches to drive the Japanese back. He saw them retreated down the trench, dragging Shui and Veter along.

"NO!" Terra shouted. Shui somehow heard, she looked back, her eyes wide in shock. Again Terra cursed himself for not telling her the truth. He tried to get up, run after her, but he couldn't. His legs would not obey. "STAY ALIVE!" He roared over the exploding shells. "I'LL FIND YOU! I'LL ALWAYS FIND YOU!" A shell hit right in front of him, knocking him back and spraying a wave of wet dirt in the air. He lost sight of her. Terra cursed his fate as darkness engulfed him again. Once again he could do nothing to save the woman he loved!

Present day, Russia…

Aqua shivered uncontrollably the chopper doors slid open. Several Russian soldiers were waiting for them. Terra stepped down first and casually returned their salutes. It was evening, the ground was blanketed with snow, and icy winds ripped at her, penetrating beneath her skin. Terra motioned them to follow him, Aqua and the couple obeyed, the poor baby wailed in the cold as his mother held him close while supporting her husband with her other arm as he limped along.

Terra led them across the helipad and into a bunker built into the mountainside. It was only slightly warmer inside. They followed him down a dimly lit stairwell into the smooth concrete cave. "This is the mountain on which the Czar and his family hid when Napoleon set fire to Russia," Terra explained. "It's said they could see the smoke even from this far away, and that this was the reason why the Czars so scorned progress and reforms. Consequently the reason why the Russian people embraced the revolution when it finally came.

"Yes!" Belle laughed bitterly. "Because Lenin, Stalin, and Khrushchev, were so different from the divine right monarchs!" Terra looked back at her with a smirk.

"I'd heard you were well-read, princess," he said. "Then you should know how easily satisfied a mob is. Sometimes the same package wrapped in a different color can appease," he finished with his own bitter laugh.

The stairway ended with a thick pressurized door, Terra opened it and led them into a locker room. "This bunker was built after World War Two as a fallout shelter in case of nuclear attack. Russian special forces have used it as a training facility and deploying site ever since." Terra stopped at a locker. "There's winter clothing in here, you should all get changed."

"How could you do this, Terra?" Aqua asked pleadingly. "How could you turn away from the light after seeing the evil of the darkness?" Terra snorted a bitter laugh.

"Light, darkness… Just two sides of a coin that is not in currency in this world," said Terra, a cocky grin edged his mouth. "In the centuries I've spent here I've learned a valuable lesson, one that even Master Eraquis lacked the wisdom to realize. Power is the only true defense against pain and misery. Those claiming to fight for light, for freedom and justice, all they do is scorn power, as if they'd be any better off without it! Magic is the ultimate power and with that power I can return us both to our world and together we can defeat and destroy Xehanort once and for all!"

Aqua blinked. "And these people? The Russians, the mercenaries?"

"A means to an end, Aqua, nothing more. Just like I am to them!" Terra went on. "This power is to our mutual benefit. Once we have returned home, these people may harness the same power to defend their homes as they please."

A timid but sincere glare darkened Aqua's face. "And if they use that power for evil? To conquer, murder, and enslave?"

"Those with power must use it how they see fit," Terra snapped. "What good did our altruism do us against Xehanort? In war the gentler gamester NEVER wins!" he spat venomously.

Aqua shook her head in frantic denial of the words coming from Terra's mouth. "You can't mean that!" she insisted. "This is not what the master taught us! Such power will only corrupt and bring darkness! It's true that the way of light is often hard and painful, but we must stay loyal to the forces of destiny!"

Terra's eyes flashed with furious flame at her last word. With terrible speed he slammed her against the locker, gripped the shoulders of her jump suit and tore with all his might. Aqua screamed in horror as her only clothing fell to her feet in tatters. Her scream was cut off as Terra clenched her neck tightly, his fingers as cold as ice. Aqua gasped for breath and flailed helplessly in his grip. She thought she heard a cry of protest from the woman off to the side but all she truly noticed was the fire in Terra's eyes. A cold fire that offered no warmth, only the sting of burning hatred.

"What if I decide that THIS is our destiny?" Terra growled like a ravenous wolf. He softened his grip enough for Aqua to gasp for breath and paused to gaze up and down upon her. His eyes locked with hers again, they hadn't softened but flashed with a deep longing. Aqua shook her head and whimpered.

"Please," she begged, squeezing her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids she saw only the face of the boy she loved. Ventus' smile almost brought one to her face, but she still felt Terra's grip and knew what he wanted. No! This couldn't be! She loved Terra like a brother! But with Ventus it was always different, even though he was younger she always sensed him blossoming into manhood. All that time in the darkness, all those fleeting dreams of passion she knew Ven shared with her. Was this really her destiny? Was destiny really so cruel?

A metallic click echoed through the room. "Get away from her!" a woman's voice growled. Aqua's eyes snapped opened and turned to see the injured man's wife pointing Terra's revolver at his head. She'd stolen it from his holster.

"Belle, please!" the man in black begged with the baby in his arms. She ignored him and held the pistol steady. A new fear rushed through Aqua, even after all that just happened she still couldn't bear the thought of losing Terra again. Terra gazed back at Belle blankly.

"I thought heroes couldn't kill?" Terra growled, letting go of Aqua and turning to face her directly. "Another standard ill-fit for this world." Belle's eyes blazed with wrath as she pulled the trigger. Aqua's heart skipped a beat as the blast of the shot never came. Belle blinked in confusion as she furiously pulled the trigger again and again. Terra sighed in deep annoyance before casually grabbing the weapon from Belle's hands. He thumbed a metal nub on the grip.

"The safety was still on," Terra calmly grunted as he turned the revolver on her.

"NO!" Aqua's cry mingled with that of the man in black. She crumbled to her knees and clenched Terra's leg. "Please don't do this Terra! Spare her life! I'll do anything! You can do as you want with me just let her live!" Aqua begged through her tears. Terra was stiff and silent as a tree. After a few moments of silence he lowered and holstered the revolver. Belle trembled as she stumbled back beside her husband.

"She saved you, princess!" Terra hissed as he turned around and strode toward an exit door at the far end of the room. "Get changed then come out this way," his voice returned to a cold calculating demeanor. "There'll be soldiers waiting to escort you to the command center, don't try to escape or you'll be shot," he finished as the exit door slammed shut behind him.

Aqua sat atop her tatters on the cold stone floor and whimpered with her face buried in her uncovered knees. Belle was upon her in an instant, she returned the princess' embrace as despair claimed her. How could it have come to this? What had happened to Terra?

…December 1950, the mountains of North Korea…

Terra eyed the Chinese soldiers skeptically as he strode through their camp. The last tattered remnants of their most recent attack on U.S. Marines' positions had returned. They limped and shivered, tracking bloody footprints in the snow. Nothing Terra hadn't seen before, but it brought back bad memories. He General Sung's massive army was still had overwhelming numbers on their side, but much more like this and it wouldn't matter.

Not only were the Americans holding out longer than expected, but the subarctic temperatures were taking a toll on the People's Liberation Army. It was a concern for the General Sung, not a Soviet observer, but the General showed no sign of concern. Terra was not the only observer to voice objections to throwing their vast numbers at the "imperialists" with no regard for the men's lives. But each time Sung would growl that we have no business criticizing because Stalin stubbornly refuses to commit air or naval support to their regional ally. We with airpower to spare make this a necessity to combat the Americans.

Terra could help but smirk at the valor of his one-time countrymen surrounded in the frozen Chosin Reservoir. It had been days since the General's trap was sprung, but the capitalists stood their snow-covered ground. After each failed attack Sung scoffed at the imperialists and scorned their "arrogance". Terra sighed each time but knew better than to try to convince the old man of his error. Arrogance was not the right word for what Americans had, Terra should know. It was something that had, at times, proven just as powerful as any fear, or hatred; hope.

Communist dictatorships had all put perfected the art of disguising hatred and terror as hope. The Second World War had nearly been the death of Communism, but the Nazis proved to be their best friend AND worst enemy. Many Russians had originally welcomed the German invaders as liberators, it was only after they learned the true nature of that Austrian-born beast that they rallied behind the hammer and sickle. If Communism were a dire wolf, the Nazis were a rabid dog.

But now the die was cast and the planet was plunged permanently into Cold War. This ancient peninsula called Korea was only a proxy battle of it. But Comrade Stalin was content to let Chairman Mao have his fun. Terra suspected he would keep teasing Mao with the possibility of support until they no longer needed it. Like a bank offering to loan money when you're no longer in debt, Terra snickered darkly at the capitalist reference.

Terra paused in the frigid night air at the edge of camp to clear his mind with a deep breath. He blinked as roaming shadows in the flashed through the snow. His keen ears could pick voices out of the wind, Chinese voices. It couldn't be a patrol, or another attack. Terra's eyes darkened at the realization, deserters. In the years since his abandonment by his brothers at Murkden, Terra had developed a particular distain for deserters.

He swiftly stomped back to camp, and barked at a squad of Red soldiers to help him hunt down some traitors. At first they scowled at a foreigner trying to order them around, then grinned carnivorously and shot to their feet. Terra led them out into the snow, quickly picking up the trail. At least six men and a few civilians, probably women and children. They quickened their pace as they saw the American battlements come into view, dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon. The imperialists would be exhausted, but not blind.

The wind muffled out their footsteps as they approached ten huddled Chinese. They were whispering about waiting until dawn and approaching with their hands up. Terra smirked, the marines trapped on that hill would probably be suspicious and shoot them, but why should they have all the fun?

The sergeant in charge of the Chinese troops sprang down on the traitors like panthers, they targeted the soldiers, shooting three of them and knocking the other two to the ground. An elderly Chinese woman fell to her knees beside one of the injured deserters and frantically began begging her son's case. "Don't shoot my boy! He only wants a better life for his wife and children!" she pointed to the younger woman and children whimpering on the ground. "Please don't shoot my Veter!"

A shockwave racked Terra's mind, causing him to flinch. Had he misheard? Again the old hag frantically repeated, "Please don't shoot my Veter!" Terra blinked, a Chinese soldier with a Russian name. He ignored the sergeant's sadistic laughter and looked more closely at the deserter with the bloody nose. Veter's face had matured, a few wrinkles, a tinge of grey at the edges, but it was a face Terra would never forget. His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as he turned to the pleading old woman. Shui finally seemed to notice, the wide-eyed Russian officer staring down at her in shock. She looked up to plead for mercy, even began speaking Russian.

"Shui?" Terra gasped. His aged spouse blinked in astonishment at the young stranger. Then she squinted and her wrinkled, squinting face tightened and widened.

"ZEMLYA!" she gasped. The sergeant scoffed at the awkward display, leveled his side arm and fired into Veters head, splashing the snow with red.

"NO!" Father and mother both screamed in unison. In an instant, Terra drew his entrenching shovel from his belt and swung it hard into the sergeant's face. He felt the satisfying cracking of bone and the splash of blood. He turned with lightning speed to brain the next nearest soldier with the shovel. Then drew his trusty Nagant emptied it into his once comrades. One soldier managed to level an smg at him, only to spray wildly as Terra's last bullet punched through his skull.

A painful gasp went up behind him and he turned to see Shui laying on her back, blood flowing from a fresh bullet wound in her belly. He crumbled to his knees in an instant and cradled his wife in his arms. Tear poured from his eyes as he begged her not to die. "I searched for you Shui!" he sobbed. "I looked and looked but couldn't find you!"

Shui blinked through the pain. "It really is you, isn't it, my love?" she asked. Terra could only nod. "You're so young! How can this be?" Terra gulped and tried to find the words to explain, but could only sob harder. The tears began to freeze running down his cheek, but he couldn't stop. Soon his wife's withered hand gently pressed against his cheek, allowing him to calm down enough to look into her eyes. "You're so handsome, like the day I met you," she said as her smile faded and her eyes slide shut. Terra felt her last breath fan his face as the light of dawn shone with full force and shadows approached.

"We've got some live ones here!" a voice called out in English. Terra looked up to see a squad of U. S. Marines leveling rifles at him. "A Russian!" the soldier looked down at Shui then eyed the dead soldiers. It just then occurred to Terra his uniform was splashed with blood. "You murdering commie heathen!" the American spat. "Killing an old lady!" Terra didn't move as the marine took aim.

"NO DON'T!" a familiar voice called out. Another marine approached, his blue eyes shone with recognition. Strands of blonde hair stuck out from under a stocking cap. "Terra!"

"Ven?"

"Don't shoot, Riley! I know him! Um…we met in the war!" Ven said with an awkward grin. "And he surrenders, right Terra?" His awkward smile held as his oldest friend gave no reply. Terra was still shocked beyond words. He thought he had imagined seeing him that day at Petersburg. But there was no hiding it anymore, this was it; the curse of the darkness. The pitiless void had damned them both to this existence. Terra knew he should feel joy and love at the sight of the only brother he ever had. But all he felt was the void, the darkness, the hatred. He slowly stood and turned.

"They won't attack again until dawn," he grunted. Ven gasped in confusion. Terra ignored the shocked gazes from the marines as he turned to frown down on his grandchildren, now crying over Shui and Veter's bodies. He and Shui had been speaking Russian, he doubted they understood. Not that they would have believed it. "Take them and get back to your lines," Terra growled as he strode back towards the Chinese base camp.

Ven called desperately after him. He never turned his head or slowed down. He couldn't bear to look at his one-time brother again. Terra knew he had no place with him. Ven's eyes still shown with light. Something that had departed from him with Shui's last breath. Was Aqua out there somewhere? Terra shook the flicker of hope from his mind, he couldn't chance it. He knew what he had to do. The only possible escape from this curse was through the very darkness that had landed him in it. That was his mission now. He would find the darkness, force it open, and break this curse. Whether it meant a return to the world of departure or the peaceful oblivion of death.


End file.
